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THE LIBRARY. 
OF 
THE UNIVERSITY 
OF CALIFORNIA 
LOS ANGELES 








eos 





H. DE BALZAC 


THE COMEDIE HUMAINE 


Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2007 with funding from 
Microsoft Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/deputyforarcisO1 balziala 





HE WALKED ROUND HIS GARDEN, HE LOOKED AT THE 
WEATHER. 





H. DE BALZAC 


a 


THE 
DEPUTY FOR ARCIS 
CLARA BELL 


WITH A PREFACE BY 


GEORGE SAINTSBURY 


ot 


PHILADELPHIA 
THE GEBBIE PUBLISHING CO., Ltd. 


1899 





Pg 
216s 
D4E 


1399 
y. | 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

PREFACE . . ° AG et ited 2's . <6 
THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS— 

I. THE ELECTION eae eae et er eee I 

Il, EDIFYING LETTERS . . ° <7) mar cae ES 


Ill. THE COMTE DE SALLENAUVE . 6 «© 6 4 « 259 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


HE WALKED ROUND HIS GARDEN, HE LOOKED AT THE WEATHER 


(p. 59). . : 3 : : ; : . Frontispiece. 

PAGE 

THIS TIME HE WAS WOUNDED. . : : . . « 126 
BEAUVISAGE —— STANDING ON THE BRIDGE, HAPPENED TO RE- 

MARK THE DAMSEL : é : : . é é Pane 7; 


LUCAS OPENED THE DOOR TO SHOW IN—‘ MONSIEUR PHILIPPE” 328 


‘*GOOD-EVENING, LADIES” . “ 5 ° ‘ ° ° - 374 


Drawn by F Ayton Symington. 


PREFACE. 


‘¢Le Dépuré p’Arcis,’’ like the still less generally known 
‘‘Les Petits Bourgeois,’’ stands on a rather different footing 
from the rest of Balzac’s work. Both were posthumous, and 
both, having been left unfinished, were completed by the 
author’s friend, Charles Rabou. Rabou is not much known 
nowadays as a man of letters; he must not be confused with 
the writer Hippolyte Babou, the friend of Baudelaire, the 
reputed inventor of the title ‘“‘ Fleurs du Mal,’’ and the 
author of some very acute articles in the great collection of 
Crepet’s ‘‘ Poétes Frangais.’’ But he figures pretty frequently 
in association of one kind or another with Balzac, and would 
appear to have been thoroughly imbued with the scheme and 
spirit of the Comédie. At the same time, it does not appear 
that even the indefatigable and most competent M. de Loven- 
joul is perfectly certain where Balzac’s labors end and those 
of Rabou begin. 

It would seem, however (and certainly internal evidence 
has nothing to say on the other side), that the severance, or 
rather the junction, must have taken place somewhere about 
the point where, after the introduction of Maxime de Trailles, 
the interest suddenly shifts altogether from the folk of Arcis 
and the conduct of their election to the hitherto unknown 
Comte de Sallenauve. It would, no doubt, be possible, and 
even easy, to discover in Balzac’s undoubted work—for in- 
stance, in ‘‘ Le Curé de Village’’ and ‘Illusions Perdues ’’— 
instances of shiftings of interest nearly as abrupt and of 
changes in the main centre of the story nearly as decided. 
Nor is it possible, considering the weakness of constructive 
finish which always marked Balzac, to rule out offhand the 
substitution, after an unusually lively and business-like begin- 


(ix) 


te 


x PREFACE. 


ning, of the nearly always frigid scheme of letters, topped up 
with a conclusion in which, with very doubtful art, as many 
personages of the Comédie, and even direct references to as 
many of its books as possible, are dragged in. But it is as 
nearly as possible certain that he would never have left things 
in such a condition, and I do not even think that he would 
ever have arranged them in quite the same state, even as an 
experiment. 

The book belongs to the Champenois or Arcis-sur-Aube 
series, which is so brilliantly followed by ‘“‘ Une Ténébreuse 
Affaire.’’ It is curious and worth notice, as showing the con- 
scientious fashion in which Balzac always set about his mature 
work, that though his provincial stories are taken from parts 
of France widely distant from one another, the selection is 
by no means haphazard, and arranges itself with ease into 
groups corresponding to certain haunts or sojourns of the 
author. There is the Loire group, furnished by his youthful 
remembrances of Tours and Saumur, and by later ones down 
to the Breton coast. There is the group of which Alencon 
and the Breton-Norman frontiers are the field, and the scenery 
of which was furnished by early visits of which we know little, 
but the fact of the existence of which is of the first impor- 
tance, as having given birth to the ‘‘ Chouans,”’ and so to the 
whole Comédie in a way. There is the Angoumois-Limousin 
group, for which he informed himself during his frequent 
visits to the Carraud family. And lastly, there is one of 
rather wider extent, and not connected with so definite a 
centre, but including the Morvan, Upper Burgundy, and 
part of Champagne, which seems to have been commended 
to him by his stay at Saché and other places. This was his 
latest set of studies, and to this ‘‘Le Député d’Arcis’’ of 
course belongs. To round off the subject, it is noteworthy 
that no part of the coast except a little in the north, with the 
remarkable exceptions of the scenes of ‘‘La Recherche de 
l’Absolu’’ and one or two others; nothing in the greater part 


PREFACE. xi 


of Brittany and Normandy; nothing in Guienne, Gascony, 
Languedoc, Provence, or Dauphiné, seems to have attracted 
him. Yet some of these scenes—and with some of them he 
had meddled in the, Days of Ignorance—are the most tempt- 
ing of any in France to the romancer, and his abstention from 
them is one of the clearest proofs of his resolve to speak only 
of that he did know. 

The certainly genuine part of the present book is, as cer- 
tainly, not below anything save his very best work. It be- 
longs, indeed, to the more minute and “ meticulous’’ part of 
that work, not to the bolder and more ambitious side. There 
is no Goriot, no Eugénie Grandet, not even any Corentin or 
Vautrin, hardly so much as a Rastignac about it. But the 
good little people of Arcis-sur-Aube are represented ‘‘ in their 
natural,’’ as Balzac’s great compatriot would have said, with 
extraordinary felicity and force. The electoral meeting in 
Madame Marions’ house is certainly one of the best things in 
the whole Comédie for completeness within its own limits, 
and none of the personages, official or other, can be said to 
suffer from that touch of exaggeration which, to some tastes, 
interferes with the more celebrated and perhaps more generally 
attractive delineations of Parisian journalism in ‘Illusions 
Perdues’’ and similar books. In fact, in what he wrote of 
‘‘Le Député d’Arcis,’’ Balzac seems to have had personal 
knowledge to go upon, without any personal grievances to 
revenge or any personal crazes to enforce. The latter, it is 
true, often prompted his sublimest work; but the former 
frequently helped to produce his least successful. In ‘‘ Le 
Député d’Arcis’’ he is at the happy mean. It is not neces- 
sary to give an elaborate bibliography of it; for, as has been 
said, only the ‘‘Election’’ part is certainly Balzac’s. This 
appeared in a newspaper, ‘‘ L’ Union Monarchique,’’ for April 
and May 1847. 

Ges. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


PART I. 
THE ELECTION. 


BEFoRE entering on a study of a country election, I need 
hardly say that the town of Arcis-sur-Aube was not the scene 
of the events to be related. The district of Arcis votes at 
Bar-sur-Aube, which is fifteen leagues away from Arcis; so 
there is no member for Arcis in the Chamber of Deputies. 
The amenities demanded by the history of contemporary 
manners require this precaution. It is perhaps an ingenious 
notion to describe one town as the setting for a drama played 
out in another; indeed, the plan has been already adopted in 
the course of this Human Comedy, in spite of the drawback 
that it often makes the frame as elaborate as the picture. 


Toward the end of April, 1839, at about ten in the morning, 
a strange appearance was presented by Madame Marion’s 
drawing-room—the lady was the widow of a revenue collector 
in the department of the Aube. Nothing remained in it of 
all the furniture but the window-curtains, the chimney hang- 
ings and ornaments, the chandelier, and the tea-table. The 
Aubusson carpet, taken up a fortnight sooner than was neces- 
sary, encumbered the balcony steps, and the parquet had been 
energetically rubbed without looking any the brighter. 

This was a sort of domestic forecast of the coming elections, 
for which preparations were being made over the whole face of 
the country. Things are sometimes as humorousas men. This 
is an argument in favor of the occult sciences. 

An old manservant, attached to Colonel Giguet, Madame 

(1) 


2 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Marion’s brother, had just finished sweeping away the dust 
that had lodged between the boards in the course of the 
winter. The housemaid and cook, with a nimble zeal that 
showed as much enthusiasm as devotion, were bringing down 
all the chairs in the house and piling them in the garden. It 
must be explained that the trees already displayed large 
leaves, between which the sky smiled cloudless. Spring 
breezes and May sunshine allowed of the glass doors and 
windows being thrown open from the drawing-room, a room 
longer than it was wide. 

The old lady, giving her orders to the two women, desired 
them to place the chairs in four rows with a space of about 
three feet between. In a few minutes there were ten chairs 
across the rows, a medley of various patterns ; a line of chairs 
was placed along the wall in front of the windows. At the 
end of the room opposite the forty chairs Madame Marion 
placed three armchairs behind the tea-table, which she covered 
with a green cloth, and on it placed a bell. 

Old Colonel Giguet appeared on the scene of the fray just 
as it had occurred to his sister that she might fill up the recess 
on each side of the chimney-place by bringing in two benches 
from the anteroom, in spite of the baldness of the velvet, which 
had seen four-and-twenty years’ service. 

‘We can seat seventy persons,’’ said she, with exultation. 

‘‘God send us seventy friends!’’ replied the colonel. 

“Tf, after receiving all the society of Arcis-sur-Aube every 
evening for twenty-four years, even one of our usual visitors 
should fail us—well!’’ said the old lady in a threatening 
tone. 

‘‘Come,’’ said the colonel with a shrug, as he interrupted 
his sister, ‘I can name ten who cannot—who ought not to 
come. To begin with,’’ said he, counting on his fingers: 
‘‘ Antonin Goulard, the sub-prefect, for one ; the public pros- 
ecutor, Frédéric Marest,* for another ; Monsieur Olivier Vinet, 


* See “A Start in Life,” 


’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 3 


his deputy, three; Monsieur Martener, the examining judge, 
four; the justice of the peace si 

**But I am not so silly,’’ the old lady interrupted in her 
turn, ‘‘ as to expect that men who hold appointments should 
attend a meeting of which the purpose is to return one more 
deputy to the Opposition. At the same time, Antonin Gou- 
lard, Simon’s playfellow and schoolmate, would be very glad 
to see him in the Chamber, for ves 

“‘Now, my good sister, leave us men to manage our own 
business. Where is Simon?’’ 

‘*He is dressing. He was very wise not to come to break- 
fast, for he is very nervous; and though our young lawyer is 
in the habit of speaking in court, he dreads this meeting as 
much as if he had to face his enemies.’’ 

“‘My word! Yes. I have often stood the fire of a battery 
and my soul never quaked—my body I say nothing about ; 
but if I had to stand up here,’’ said the old soldier, placing 
himself behind the table, ‘‘opposite the forty good people 
who will sit there, open-mouthed, their eyes fixed on mine, 
and expecting a set speech in sounding periods—my shirt 
would be soaking before I could find a word.”’ 

‘And yet, my dear father, you must make that effort on 
my behalf,’’? said Simon Giguet, coming in from the little 
drawing-room ; ‘‘for if there is a man in the department 
whose word is powerful, it is certainly you. In 1815 oe 

‘‘In 1815,’” said the particularly well-preserved little man, 
‘¢T had not to speak ; I merely drew up a little proclamation 
which raised two thousand men in twenty-four hours. And 
there is a great difference between putting one’s name at the 
bottom of a broadsheet and addressing a meeting. Napoleon 
himself would have lost at that game. On the 18th Brumaire* 
he talked sheer nonsense to the Five Hundred.”’ 

‘¢ But, my dear father, my whole life is at stake, my pros- 
pects, my happiness Just look at one person only, and 














* The date of the overthrow of the Directory by Bonaparte, 


4 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


fancy you are speaking to him alone—you will get through it 
all right.’’ 

‘*Mercy on us! I am only an old woman,”’ said Madame 
Marion; ‘‘ but in such a case, and if I knew what it was all 
about—why, I could be eloquent !”’ 

‘¢Too eloquent, perhaps,’’ said the colonel. ‘‘And to 
shoot beyond the mark is not to hit it. But what is in the 
wind?’’ he added, addressing his son. ‘‘ For the last two 
days you have connected this nomination with some no- 
tion If my son is not elected, so much the worse for 
Arcis, that’s all.’’ 

These words, worthy of a father, were quite in harmony 
with the whole life of the speaker. 

Colonel Giguet, one of the most respected officers in the 
Grande Armée, was one of those admirable characters which 
to a foundation of perfect rectitude add great delicacy of 
feeling. He never thrust himself forward; honors came to 
seek him out; hence for eleven years he had remained a 
captain in the Artillery of the Guards, rising to command a 
battalion in 1813, and promoted major in 1814. His almost 
fanatical attachment to Napoleon prohibited his serving the 
Bourbons after the Emperor’s first abdication. And in 1815 
his devotion was so conspicuous that he would have been 
banished but for the Comte de Gondreville, who had his name 
erased from the list, and succeeded in getting hima retiring 
pension and the rank of colonel. 

Madame Marion, wée Giguet, had had another brother who 
was colonel of the Gendarmes at Troyes, and with whom she 
had formerly lived. There she had married Monsieur Marion, 
receiver-general of the revenues of the department. 

A brother of the late lamented Marion was presiding judge 
of one of the Imperial courts. While still a pleader at Arcis 
this lawyer had, during the ‘‘ Terror,’’ lent his name to the 
famous Malin (deputy for the Aube), a representative of the 
people, to enable him to purchase the estate of Gondreville. 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 5 


Marion, the receiver-general, had inherited the property of 
his brother the judge ; Madame Marion came in for that of 
her brother, Colonel Giguet of the Gendarmes. In 1814 
Monsieur Marion suffered some reverses; he died at about 
the same time as the Empire, and his widow was able to make 
up fifteen thousand francs a year from the wreck of these fag- 
ends of fortunes. Giguet of the Gendarmes had left all his 
little wealth to his sister on hearing of his brother’s marriage, 
in 1806, to one of the daughters of a rich Hamburg banker. 
The admiration of all Europe for Napoleon’s magnificent 
troopers is well known. 

In 1814 Madame Marion, in very narrow circumstances, 
came to live at Arcis, her native town, where she bought a 
house in the Grande Place, one of the handsomest residences 
in the town, on a site suggesting that it had formerly been 
dependent on the castle. Being used to entertain a great 
deal at Troyes, where the revenue-collector was a person of 
importance, her drawing-room was open to the prominent 
members of the Liberal circle at Arcis. A woman who is 
used to the position of queen of a country salon does not 
readily forego it. Of all habits, those of vanity are the most 
enduring. 

Colonel Giguet, a Liberal, after being a Bonapartist—for, 
by a singular metamorphosis, Napoleon’s soldiers almost all 
fell in love with the constitutional system—naturally became, 
under the Restoration, the president of the Town Council of 
Arcis, which included Grévin, the notary, and Beauvisage, 
his son-in-law ; Varlet’s son, the leading physician in the town 
and Grévin’s brother-in-law, with sundry other Liberals of 
importance. 

‘‘If our dear boy is not elected,’’ said Madame Marion, 
after looking into the anteroom and the garden to make sure 
that nobody was listening, ‘‘ he will not win Mademoiselle 
Beauvisage ; for what he looks for in the event of his success 
is marrying Cécile.’’ 


6 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


“‘Cécile?’’ said the old man, opening his eyes wide to 
gaze at his sister in amazement. 

‘*No one but you in all the department, brother, is likely 
to forget the fortune and the expectations of Mademoiselle 
Beauvisage.”’ 

‘‘She is the wealthiest heiress in the department of the 
Aube,’’ said Simon Giguet. 

‘* But it seems to me that my son is not to be sneezed at!’’ 
said the old colonel. ‘‘ He is your heir; he has his mother’s 
money ; and I hope to leave him something better than my 
bare name.’’ 

‘¢ All that put together will not give him more than thirty 
thousand francs a year, and men have already come forward 
with as much as that—to say nothing of position——’”’ 

«* And p——”’ asked the colonel. 

‘* And have been refused.’’ 

‘‘What on earth do the Beauvisages want, then?’’ said 
Giguet, looking from his sister to his son. 

It may seem strange that Colonel Giguet, Madame Marion’s 
brother—in whose house the society of Arcis had been meeting 
every evening for the last four-and-twenty years, whose salon 
rang with the echo of every rumor, every slander, every piece 
of gossip of the countryside—where perhaps they were even 
manufactured—should be ignorant of such facts and events. 
But his ignorance is accounted for when it is pointed out that 
this noble survivor of the Imperial phalanx went to bed and 
rose with the chickens, as old men do who want to live all 
the days of their life. Hence he was never present at confi- 
dential ‘‘ talks.’’ 

For the past nine years, since his political party had come 
to the top, the colonel lived almost out of the world. He 
always rose with the sun, and devoted himself to horticulture ; 
he was devoted to flowers ; but of all flowers, he only cherished 
his roses. He had the stained hands of a true gardener. He 
himself tended his beds—his squares he called them. His 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. Z 


squares! The word reminded him of the gaudy array of 
men drawn up on the field of battle. He was always holding 
council with his man, and, especially for the last two years, 
seldom mingled with the company, rarely seeing any visitors. 
He took one meal only with the family—his dinner; for he 
was up too early to breakfast with his sister and his son. It 
is to the colonel’s skill that the world owes the Giguet rose, 
famous among amateurs. 

This old man, a sort of domestic fetish, was brought out, 
of course, on great occasions; some families have a demi- 
god of this kind, and make a display of him as they would of 
a title. 

‘‘T have a suspicion that since the Revolution of July Ma- 
dame Beauvisage has a hankering after living in Paris,’’ said 
Madame Marion. ‘‘ Being compelled to remain here till her 
father dies, she has transferred her ambition and placed her 
hopes in her future son-in-law; the fair matron dreams of the 
splendors of a political position.”’ 

‘‘And could you love Cécile ?’’ asked the colonel of his 
son. 

eeVes, father?” 

‘Does she take to you?”’ 

‘‘T think so. But the important point is that her mother 
and her grandfather should fancy me. Although old Grévin 
is pleased to oppose my election, success would bring Madame 
Beauvisage to accept me, for she will hope to govern me to 
her mind, and be minister under my name.”’ 

*©A good joke!’’ cried Madame Marion. ‘*And what 
does she take us for?’’ 

‘‘Whom has she refused then ?’’ asked the colonel of his 
sister. 

‘* Well, within the last three months they say that Antonin 
Goulard and Monsieur Frédéric Marest, the public prose- 
cutor, got very equivocal replies, meaning anything excepting 
ES. 


8 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘Good heavens!’’ exclaimed the old man, throwing up 
his arms, ‘‘ what times we live in! Why, Cécile is a hosier’s 
daughter, a farmer’s grandchild. Does Madame Beauvisage 
look for a Comte de Cinq-Cygne for a son-in-law ?”’ 

‘‘ Nay, brother, do not make fun of the Beauvisages. Cécile 
is rich enough to choose a husband wherever she pleases—even 
of the rank of the Cygnes. But I hear the bell announcing 
the arrival of some elector ; I must go, and am only sorry that 
I cannot listen to what is said.’’ 

The district of Arcis-sur-Aube was at this time in a strange 
position, believing itself free to elect a deputy. From 1816 
till 1836 it had always returned one of the most ponderous 
orators of the Left, one of those seventeen whom the Liberal 
party loved to designate as ‘‘ great citizens’’—no less a man, 
in short, than Francois Keller, of the firm of Keller Brothers, 
son-in-law to the Comte de Gondreville. 

Gondreville, one of the finest estates in France, is not 
more than a quarter of a league from Arcis. The banker, 
lately created count and peer of France, proposed, no doubt, 
to hand on to his son, now thirty years of age, his position as 
deputy, so as to fit him in due time to sit among the peers. 

Chailes Keller, already a major holding a staff appointment, 
and now a viscount, as one of the prince royal’s favorites, 
was attached to the party of the Citizen King. A splendid 
future seemed to lie before a young man of immense wealth, 
high courage, and noteworthy devotion to the new dynasty— 
grandson to the Comte de Gondreville, and nephew of the 
Maréchale de Carigliano. But this election, indispensable to 
his future plans, presented very great difficulties. 

Ever since the advancement to power of the citizen class, 
Arcis had felt a vague yearning for independence. The last 
few elections, at which Francois Keller had been returned, 
had been disturbed by certain Republicans whose red caps and 
wagging beards had not proved alarming to the good folk of 
Arcis. By working up the feeling of the country, the Radical 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 9 


candidate had secured thirty or forty votes. Some of the 
residents, humiliated by seeing their town a rotten borough 
of the Opposition, then joined these democrats, but not to 
support democracy. 

When Simon Giguet sounded Grévin the notary, the count’s 
faithful ally, on the subject of the candidature, the old man 
replied that, without knowing anything of the Comte de 
Gondreville’s intentions, Charles Keller was the man for him, 
and that he should do his utmost to secure his return. 

As soon as Grévin’s announcement was made known in 
Arcis there was a strong feeling against him. Although this 
Aristides of Champagne had, during thirty years of practice, 
commanded the fullest confidence of the citizens; although 
he had been mayor of the town from 1804 till 1814, and 
again during the Hundred Days; although the Opposition 
had recognized him as their leader till the days of triumph in 
1830, when he had refused the honor of the mayoralty in 
consideration of his advanced age; finally, although the 
town, in proof of its attachment, had then elected his son-in- 
law, Monsieur Beauvisage, they now all turned against him, 
and some of the younger spirit accused him of being in his 
dotage. . 

Monsieur le Maire, questioned only the day before on the 
market-place, had declared that he would sooner vote for the 
first name on the list of eligible citizens of Arcis than for 
Charles Keller, for whom he had, however, the highest es- 
teem. - 

“Arcis shall no longer be a rotten borough! ’? cried he. 
“Or I go to live in Paris.’’ 

Flatter the passions of the day, and you become a hero at 
once, even at Arcis-sur-Aube. 

‘* Monsieur le Maire has given crowning proof of his firm- 
ness of temper,’’ they said. 

Nothing gathers faster than a legalized rebellion. In the 
course of the evening Madame Marion and her friends had 


10 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


organized for the morrow a meeting of ‘‘ Independent Elec- 
tors’’ in favor of Simon Giguet, the colonel’s son. And now 
that morrow was to-day, and she had turned the whole house 
topsy-turvy for the reception of the friends on whose inde- 
pendence they relied. 

Simon Giguet, the home-made candidate of a little town 
that was jealously eager to return one of its sons, had, as has 
been seen, at once taken advantage of this little stir to make 
himself the representative of the wants and interests of South- 
western Champagne. At the same time, the position and 
fortune of the Giguet family were wholly due to the Comte 
de Gondreville. But when an election is in the case, can 
feelings be considered ? 

This drama is written for the enlightenment of lands so un- 
happy as to be ignorant of the benefits of national representa- 
tion, and unaware, therefore, of the intestinal struggles and 
the Brutus-like sacrifices a little town has to suffer in giving 
birth to a deputy—a natural and majestic spectacle which can 
only be compared to childbirth—there are the same efforts, 
the same defilement, the same travail, the same triumph. 

During his wife’s lifetime, from 1806 to 1813, the colonel 
had had three children, of whom Simon, the eldest, survived 
the other two. The mother died in 1814, one of the children 
in 1818, the other in 1825. Until he remained the sole sur- 
vivor, Simon had, of course, been brought up with a view to 
making his own living by some lucrative profession. Then, 
when he was an only son, Simon’s prospects underwent a 
reverse. Madame Marion’s hopes for her nephew had been 
largely founded on his inheriting considerable wealth from his 
grandfather, the Hamburg banker; but the German, dying in 
1826, left his grandson, Giguet, no more than two thousand 
francs a year. The financier, endowed with great powers of 
procreation, had counteracted the monotony of commercial 
life by indulging in the joys of fatherhood ; hence he favored 
the families of the eleven other children who clung to him, as 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 11 


it were, and made him believe—what, indeed, seemed not 
unlikely—that Simon would be a rich man. 

The colonel was bent on putting his son into an independent 
profession ; and this was why: the Giguets could not hope for 
any favor from Government under the Restoration. Even if 
Simon had not had an ‘ardent Bonapartist for his father, he 
belonged to a family all of whom had justly incurred the dis- 
approbation of the Cing-Cygne family, in consequence of the 
part taken by Giguet, the colonel of Gendarmes, and all the 
Marions—Madame Marion included—as witnesses for the 
prosecution in the famous trial of the Simeuses. These 
brothers were unjustly sentenced, in 1805, as guilty of carry- 
ing off and detaining the Comte de Gondreville (at that time 
a senator, after having been the people’s representative), who 
had despoiled their family of its fortune. 

Grévin had been not only one of the most important wit- 
nesses, but also an ardent promoter of the proceedings. At 
this time this trial still divided the district of Arcis into two 
factions—one believing in the innocence of the condemned 
perties and upholding the family of Cinq-Cygne, the other 
supporting the Comte de Gondreville and his adherents. 
Though, after the Restoration, the Comtesse de Cing-Cygne 
made use of the influence she acquired by the return of the 
Bourbons to settle everything to her mind in the department, 
the Comte de Gondreville found means to counterbalance the 
supremacy of the Cinq-Cygnes by the secret authority he held 
over the Liberals by means of Grévin and Colonel Giguet. 
He also had the support of his son-in-law, Keller, who was 
unfailingly elected deputy in spite of the Cinq-Cygnes, and 
considerable influence in the State Council so long as King 
Louis XVIII. lived. 

It was by the Comte de Gondreville’s advice that Colonel 
Giguet had made a lawyer of his son. Simon had all the 
better chance of shining in the Arcis district, because he was 
the only pleader there; as a rule, in these small towns, the 


12 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


attorneys plead in their own cases. Simon had had some 
little success at the assizes of the department; but he was not 
the less the butt of many pleasantries from Frédéric Murest, 
the public prosecutor; from Olivier Vinet, his deputy; and 
Michu, the presiding judge—the three wits of the court. 
Simon Giguet, it must be owned, like all men who are laughed 
at, laid himself open to the cruel power of ridicule. He 
listened to his own voice, he was ready to talk on any pre- 
tense, he spun out endless reels of cut-and-dried phrases, 
which were accepted as eloquence among the superior citizens 
of Arcis. The poor fellow was one of the class of bores who 
have an explanation for everything, even for the simplest 
matters. He would explain the rain; the causes of the Revo- 
lution of July; he would also explain things that were inex- 
plicable—he would explain Louis-Philippe, Monsieur Odilon 
Barrot, Monsieur Thiers; he explained the Eastern Question ; 
the state of the province of Champagne; he explained 1789, 
the custom-house tariff, the views of humanitarians, mag- 
netism, and the distribution of the civil list. 

This young man, who was lean and bilious-looking, and 
tall enough to account for his sonorous emptiness—for a tall 
man is rarely remarkable for distinguished gifts—caricatured 
the puritanism of the Extreme Left, whose members are all so 
precise, after the fashion of a prude who has some intrigue to 
conceal. 

The first sound of the door-bell, announcing the advent of 
the more important electors, made the ambitious youth’s heart 
beat with vague alarms. Simon did not deceive himself as to 
the cleverness or the vast resources at the command of old 
Grévin, nor as to the effect of the heroic measures that would 
be taken by the Ministry to support the interests of the brave 
young officer—at that time in Africa on the staff of the prince 
—who was the son of one of the great citizen-lords of France, 
and the nephew of a maréchale. 

‘«T really think I have the colic,’’ said he to his father, ‘I 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 13 


have a sickly burning just over the pit of my stomach, which 
I do not at all like pe 

‘<The oldest soldiers,’ replied the colonel, ‘‘ felt just the 
same when the guns opened fire at the beginning of a bat- 
tle.’’ 

‘What will it be, then, in the Chamber !’’ exclaimed the 
lawyer. 

‘©The Comte de Gondreville has told us,’’ the old soldier 
went on, “that more than one speaker is liable to the little 
discomforts which we old leather-breeches were used to feel 
at the beginning of a fight. And all for a few empty words! 
But, dear me, you want to be a deputy,’’ added the old man, 
with ashrug. ‘‘ Bea deputy !”’ 

‘The triumph, father, will be Cécile! Cécile is enor- 
mously rich, and in these days money is power.”’ 

‘‘ Well, well, times have changed! In the Emperor’s time 
it was bravery that was needed.’’ 

‘‘Every age may be summed up in a word!”’ said Simon, 
repeating a remark of the old Comte de Gondreville’s, which 
was thoroughly characteristic of the man. ‘‘ Under the Em- 
pire to ruin a man you said: ‘He is a coward!’ Nowadays 
we say: ‘ He is a swindler.’ ”’ 

‘‘Unhappy France, what have you come to!’’ cried the 
colonel. ‘‘I will go back to my roses.’’ 

‘*No, no, stay here, father. You are the keystone of the 
arch !’’ 





The first to appear was the mayor, Monsieur Philéas Beau- 
visage, and with him came his father-in-law’s successor, the 
busiest notary in the town, Achille Pigoult, the grandson of 
an old man who had been justice of the peace at Arcis all 
through the Revolution, the Empire, and the early days of 
the Restoration. Achille Pigoult, a man of about two-and- 
thirty, had been old Grévin’s clerk for eighteen years, with- 
out a hope of getting an office as notary. His father, the old 


14 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


justice’s son, had failed badly in business, and died of an 
apoplexy so called. Then the Comte de Gondreville, on 
whom old Pigoult had some claims outstanding from 1793, 
had lent the necessary security, and so enabled the grandson 
to purchase Grévin’s office ; the old justice of the peace had, 
in fact, conducted the preliminary inquiry in the Simeuse 
case. So Achille had established himself in a house in the 
Church Square belonging to the count, and let at so lowa 
rent that it was easy to perceive how anxious the wily poli- 
tician was to keep a hold over the chief notary of the town. 

This young Pigoult, a lean little man, with eyes that seemed 
to pierce the green spectacles which did not mitigate their 
cunning expression, and fully informed of everybody’s con- 
cerns in the district, had acquired a certain readiness of speech 
from the habit of talking on business, and was supposed to 
be a great wag, simply because he spoke out with rather more 
wit than the natives had at their command. He was still a 
bachelor, looking forward to making some good match by the 
intervention of his two patrons—Grévin and the Comte de 
Gondreville. And Lawyer Giguet could not repress a start of 
surprise when he saw Achille as a satellite to Monsieur Philéas 
Beauvisage. 

The man’s entire self-satisfaction passed, however, for benev- 
olence and friendliness, all the more readily because he had a 
style of speech of his own, marked by the most extravagant 
use of polite phraseology. Healways ‘‘ had the honor ’’ to. in- 
quire after the health of a friend, he invariably added the 
adjectives dear, good, excellent; and he was prodigal of compli- 
mentary phrases on every occasion of the minor grievances or 
pleasures of life. Thus, under a deluge of commonplace, he 
concealed his utter incapacity, his lack. of education, and a 
vacillating nature which can only find adequate description in 
the old-fashioned word weathercock. But then this weather- 
cock had for its pinion handsome Madame Beauvisage, Séver: 
ine Grévin, the notable lady of the district. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 15 


When Séverine had heard of what she was pleased to call 
her husband’s freak @ ropos to the election, she had said to 
him that very morning: 

‘*You did not do badly by asserting your independence ; 
but you must not go to the meeting at the Giguets’ without 
taking Achille Pigoult; I have sent to tell him to call for 
you.”’ 

Now sending Achille Pigoult to keep an eye on Beauvisage 
was tantamount to sending a spy from the Gondreville faction 
to attend the Giguets’ meeting. So it is easy to imagine what 
a grimace twisted Simon’s puritanical features when he found 
himself extending a civil welcome to a regular visitor in his 
aunt’s drawing-room, and an influential elector, in whom he 
scented an enemy. 

‘*Ah!’’ thought he to himself, ‘‘ I was a fool when I re- 
fused the security money he asked me to lend him! Old 
Gondreville was sharper than I. Good-day, Achille,’’ he said 
aloud, with an air of ease. ‘‘ You will give mea tough job 
or two.”’ 

‘< Your meeting is not a conspiracy against the independence 
of our votes, I suppose,’’ replied the notary with a smile. 
‘* We are playing aboveboard ?”’ 

‘* Aboveboard !’’ repeated Beauvisage. 

And the mayor laughed that meaningless laugh with which 
some men end every sentence, and which might be called the 
burden of their song. Then Monsieur le Maire assumed what 
we may call his third position, fullface, and very upright, 
with his hands behind his back. He was in a whole suit of 
black, with a highly decorated white vest, open so as to show 
a glimpse of two diamond studs worth several] thousand francs. 

‘‘We will fight it out, and be none the worse friends,”’ 
Philéas went on. ‘‘ That is the essential feature of constitu- 
tional institutions. Hah, ha, ha! That is my notion of the 
alliance between the monarchy and liberty. He, he, he!”’ 

Thereupon the mayor took Simon by the hand, saying— 


16 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢ And how are you, my dear friend? Your dear aunt and 
the worthy colonel are, no doubt, as well to-day as they were 
yesterday—at least we may presume that they are. Eh, eh! 
A little put out, perhaps, by the ceremony we are preparing 
for, perhaps. So, so! Young man’’ (yong maan, he said), 
‘¢ we are starting in our political career? Ah, ha, ha! This 
is our first step! We must never draw back—it is a strong 
measure! Ay, and I would rather you than I should rush 
into the tempests of the Chamber. He, he! pleasing as it 
may be to find the sovereign power of France embodied in 
one’s own person—he, he !—one four-hundred-and-fifty-third 
part of it—he, he!”’ 

There was a pleasant fullness in Philéas Beauvisage’s voice 
that corresponded admirably with the gourd-like rotundity of 
his face and its hue as of a pale buff pumpkin, his round 
back, and broad protuberant person. His voice, as deep and 
mellow as a ’cello, had the velvety quality of a baritone, and 
the laugh with which he ended every sentence had a silvery 
ring. 

‘‘T admire the devotion of men who can throw themselves 
into the storms of political life,’’ he went on. ‘‘ He, he, he! 
You need a nerve that I cannot boast of. Who would have 
said in 1812—in 1813 even—that this was what we were 
coming to? For my part, I am prepared for anything, now 
that asphalt and india-rubber, railways and steam, are meta- 
morphosing the ground under our feet, our greatcoats, and 
the length of distances. Ha, ha!”’ 

It is, no doubt, superfluous to add that Philéas was regarded 
at Arcis as an agreeable and charming man. 

‘¢T will endeavor,’’ said Simon Giguet, ‘‘to be a worthy 
representative 4 

‘‘Of the sheep of Champagne,’’ said Achille Pigoult 
quickly, interrupting his friend. 

The aspirant took the irony without replying, for he had to 
go forward and receive two more electors. One was the 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 17 


owner of the Mulet, the best inn of the town, situated in the 
market square, at the corner of the Rue de Brienne. This 
worthy innkeeper, whose name was Poupart, had married the 
sister of a man in the Comtesse de Cinq-Cygne’s service, the 
notorious Gothard, who had figured at the great trial. Now 
Gothard had been acquitted. Poupart, though he was of all the 
townsfolk one of the most devoted to the Cinq-Cygnes, had, 
two days since, been so diligently and so cleverly wheedled by 
Colonel Giguet’s servant, that he fancied he would be doing 
their enemy an ill turn by bringing all his influence to bear 
on the election of Simon Giguet ; and he had just been talk- 
ing to this effect to achemist named Fromaget, who, as he 
was not employed by the Gondreville family, was very ready 
to plot against the Kellers. These two men, important among 
the lower middle-class, could control a certain number of 
doubtful votes, for they were the advisers of several electors 
to whom the political opinions of the candidates were a matter 
of indifference. 

Simon, therefore, took Poupart in hand, leaving Fromaget 
to his father, who had just come in, and was greeting those 
who had arrived. 

The deputy inspector of public works of the district, the 
secretary to the mairie, four bailiffs, three attorneys, the clerk 
of assize, and the justice’s clerk, the revenue collector, and the 
registrar, two doctors—old Varlet’s rivals, Grévin’s brother- 
in-law—a miller named Laurent Coussard, leader of the Re- 
publican party at Arcis—the mayor’s two deputies, the book- 
seller and printer of the place, and a dozen or so of townsfolk 
came in by degrees, and then walked about the garden in 
groups while waiting till the company should be numerous 
enough to hold the meeting. 

Finally, by twelve o’clock, about fifty men in their Sunday 
attire, most of them having come out of curiosity to see the 
fine rooms of which so much had been said in the district, 
were seated in the chairs arranged for them by Madame 

2 


18 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Marion. The windows were left open, and the silence was 
presently so complete that the rustle of a silk dress could be 
heard; for Madame Marion could not resist the temptation 
to go out into the garden and sit where she could hear what 
‘was going on. ‘The cook, the housemaid, and the manservant 
remained in the dining-room, fully sharing their masters’ feel- 
ings. 

‘‘Gentlemen,’’ said Simon Giguet, ‘‘some of you wish to 
do my father the honor of placing him in the chair as president 
of this meeting, but Colonel Giguet desires me to express his 
acknowledgments and decline it, while deeply grateful to you 
for the proposal, which he takes as a recompense for his ser- 
vices to his country. We are under my father’s roof, and he 
feels that he must beg to be excused ; he proposes a merchant 
of the highest respectability—a gentleman on whom your 
suffrages conferred the mayoralty of this town—Monsieur 
Philéas Beauvisage.’’ 

‘¢ Hear, hear!’’ 

‘*We are, I believe, agreed that in this meeting—-purely 
friendly, and perfectly free, without prejudice in any way to 
the great preliminary meeting, when it will be your business 
to question your candidates and weigh their merits—we are 
agreed, I say, to follow the forms—the constitutional forms— 
of the elective Chamber! ’’ 

‘Yes, yes!’’ unanimously. 

‘¢ Therefore,’’ said Simon, ‘‘I have the honor, speaking in 
the name of all present, to request Monsieur the Mayor to 
take the president’s chair.’’ 

Philéas rose and crossed the room, feeling himself turn as 
red asacherry. When he found himself behind the tea-table, 
he saw not a hundred eyes, but a hundred thousand lights. 
The sunshine seemed to put the room in a blaze, and, to use 
his own words, his throat was full of salt. 

‘Return thanks! ’’ murmured Simon in his ear. 

‘** Gentlemen e 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 19 


The silence was so alarming that Philéas felt his heart in his 
mouth. 

‘¢ What am I to say, Simon?”’ he whispered. 

‘¢ Well?’’ said Achille Pigoult.* 

‘¢Gentlemen,’’ said Simon, prompted by the little notary’s 
spiteful interjection, ‘‘the honor you have done the mayor 
may have startled without surprising him.’’ 

‘‘Tt isso,’’ said Beauvisage. ‘‘ Iam too much overpowered 
by this compliment from my fellow-citizens not to be exces- 
sively flattered.’’ 

‘Hear, hear! ’’ cried the notary only. 

‘The devil may take me,’’ said Beauvisage to himself, ‘‘ if 
I am ever caught again to make speeches !”’ 

‘‘Will Monsieur Fromaget and Monsieur Marcelin accept 
the functions of tellers ?’’ asked Simon. 

‘¢Tt would be more in order,’’ said Achille Pigoult, rising, 
‘‘ if the meeting were to elect the two members who support 
the chair—in imitation of the Chamber.”’ 

‘*TIt would be far better,’’ observed Monsieur Mollot, an 
enormous man, clerk of the assizes, ‘‘ otherwise the whole 
business will be a farce, and we shall not be really free. 
There would be no just cause why the whole of the proceed- 
ings should not be regulated as Monsieur Simon might dic- 
tate.’’ 

Simon muttered a few words to Beauvisage, who rose, and 
was presently delivered of the word, ‘‘ Gentlemen !’’ which 
might be described as of thrilling interest. 

‘* Allow me, Mr. President,’’ said Achille Pigoult ; ‘it is 
your part to preside, not to discuss.’’ 

‘‘Gentlemen,’”’ said Beauvisage again, prompted by Simon, 
‘‘if we are to—to conform to—to parliamentary usage—I 
would beg the Honorable Monsieur Pigoult to—to come and 
speak from the table—this table.’’ 

Pigoult started forward and stood by the tea-table, his fin- 


* Grandson of Pigoult, in “A Historical Mystery.” 


20 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


gers lightly resting on the edge, and showed his sublime 
courage by speaking most fluently—almost like the great 
Monsieur Thiers. 

‘*Gentlemen, it was not I who proposed that we should 
imitate the Chamber ; till now it has always appeared to me 
that the Chambers are truly inimitable. At the same time, it 
was self-evident that a meeting of sixty-odd notables of Cham- 
pagne must select a president, for no sheep can move without 
ashepherd. If we had voted by ballot, Iam quite sure our 
esteemed mayor would have been unanimously elected. His 
antagonism to the candidate put forward by his relations 
shows that he possesses civic courage in no ordinary degree, 
since he can shake off the strongest ties—those of family con- 
nection. 

‘¢ To set public interest above family feeling is so great an 
effort, that, to achieve it, we are always obliged to remind 
ourselves that Brutus, from his tribune, has looked down on 
us for two thousand five hundred odd years. It seemed quite 
natural to Maitre Giguet—who was so clever as to divine our 
wishes with regard to the choice of a chairman—to guide us 
in our selection of the tellers ; but, in response to my remark, 
you thought that once was enough, and you were right. Our 
common friend, Simon Giguet, who is, in fact, to appear as a 
candidate, would appear too much as the master of the situa- 
tion, and would then lose that high place in our opinion 
which his venerable father has secured by his diffidence. 

‘* Now, what is our worthy chairman doing by accepting 
the presidency on the lines suggested to him by the candi- 
date? Why, he is robbing us of our liberty. And, I ask 
you, is it seemly that the chairman of our choice should call 
upon us to vote, by rising and sitting, for the two tellers? 
Gentlemen, that would be a choice already made. Should we 
be free to choose? Can a man sit still when his neighbor 
stands? If I were proposed, every one would rise, I believe, 
out of politeness ; and so, as all would rise for each one in 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 21 


turn, there would be simply no choice when every one had 
voted for every one else.’’ 

‘Very true!”’ said the sixty listeners. 

‘* Well, then, let each of us write two names on a voting- 
paper, and then those who take their seats on each side of the 
chairman may regard themselves as ornaments to the meeting. 
They will be qualified, conjointly with the chairman, to decide 
on the majority when we vote by rising and sitting on any 
resolution to be passed. 

**We have met, I believe, to promise the candidate such 
support as we can command .at the preliminary meeting, at 
which every elector in the district will be present. This I 
pronounce to be asolemn occasion. Are we not voting for 
the four-hundredth part of the governing power, as Monsieur 
le Maire told us just now with the appropriate and character- 
istic wit that we so highly appreciate ?’’ 

During this address Colonel Giguet had been cutting a 
sheet of paper into strips, and Simon sent for an inkstand and 
pens. There was a pause. 

This introductory discussion had greatly disturbed Simon 
and aroused the attention of the sixty worthies in convocation. 
In a few minutes they were all busy writing the names, and 
the cunning Pigoult gave it out that the votes were in favor of 
Monsieur Mollot, clerk of assize, and Monsieur Godivet, the 
registrar. These two nominations naturally displeased Fro- 
maget the druggist and Marcelin the attorney. 

‘*You have been of service,’’ said Achille Pigoult, ‘‘ by 
enabling us to assert our independence; you may be prouder 
of being rejected than you could have been of being chosen.”’ 

Everybody laughed. Simon Giguet restored silence by 
asking leave of the chairman to speak. Beauvisage was 
already damp with perspiration, but he summoned all his 
courage to say— 

‘¢ Monsieur Simon Giguet will address the meeting.”’ 

‘¢Gentlemen,’’ said the candidate, ‘‘ allow me first to thank 


22 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Monsieur Achille Pigoult, who, although our meeting is a 
strictly friendly one a 

‘Is preparatory to the great preliminary meeting,’’ Mar. 
celin put in. 

‘¢T was about to say so,’’ Simon went on. ‘In the first 
place, I beg to thank Monsieur Achille Pigoult for having 
proceeded on strictly parliamentary lines. To-day, for the 
first time, the district of Arcis will make free use o 

“Free use!’’ said Pigoult, interrupting the orator. 

‘‘Free use!’’ cried the assembly. 

‘* Free use,’’ repeated Simon, ‘‘ of the right of voting in the 
great contest of the general election of a deputy to be re- 
turned to Parliament ; and as, in a few days, we shall have a 
meeting, to which every elector is invited, to form an opinion 
of the candidates, we may think ourselves fortunate to acquire 
here, on a small scale, some practice in the customs of such 
meetings. We shall be all the forwarder as to a decision on 
the political prospects of the town of Arcis; for what we have 
to do to-day is to consider the town instead of a family, the 
country instead of a man.’”’ 

He went on to sketch the history of the elections for the 
past twenty years. While approving of the repeated election 
of Francois Keller, he said that now the time had come for 
shaking off the yoke of the Gondrevilles. Arcis could not be 
a fief of the Liberals any more than it could be a fief of the 
Cinq-Cygnes. Advanced opinions were making their way in 
France, and Charles Keller did not represent them. Charles 
Keller, now a viscount, was a courtier; he could never be truly 
independent, since, in proposing him as a candidate for elec- 
tion, it was done more with a view to fitting him to succeed 
his father as a peer than as a deputy to the Lower Chamber— 
and so forth, and so forth. Finally, Simon begged to offer 
himself as a candidate for their suffrages, pledging himself to 
sit under the wing of the illustrious Odilon Barrot, and never 
to desert the glorious standard of Progress. Progress !—a 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 23 


word behind which, at that time, more insincere ambitions 
took shelter than definite ideas; for, after 1830, it could only 
stand for the pretensions of certain hungry democrats. 

Still, the word had much effect in Arcis, and lent importance 
to any man who wrote it on his flag. A man who announced 
himself as a partisan of Progress was a philosopher in all ques- © 
tions, and politically a Puritan. He was in favor of railways, 
macintoshes, penitentiaries, negro emancipation, savings- 
banks, seamless shoes, gas-lighting, asphalt pavements, uni- 
versal suffrage, and the reduction of the civil list. It was 
also a pronouncement of opposition to the treaties of 1815, to 
the Elder Branch (the Bourbons), to the Giant of the North, 
‘* perfidious Albion,’’ and to every undertaking, good or bad, 
inaugurated by the Government. As may be seen, the word 
Progress can stand equally well for black or white. It wasa 
furbishing up of the word Liberalism, a new rallying-cry for 
new ambitions. 

‘Tf I rightly understand what we are here for,’’ said Jean 
Violette, a stocking-weaver, who had, two years since, bought 
the Beauvisage business, ‘‘ we are to bind ourselves to secure, 
by every means in our power, the return of Monsieur Simon 
Giguet at the election as deputy for Arcis in the place of 
the Count Frangois Keller. And if we are all agreed to com- 
bine to that end, we have only tosay Yes or No to that ques- 
tion.”’ 

‘That is going much too fast. Political matters are not 
managed in that way, or they would cease to be politics !’’ 
cried Pigoult, as his grandfather, a man of eighty-six, came 
into the room. ‘‘ The last speaker pronounces a decision on 
what is, in my humble opinion, the very subject under discus- 
sion. I beg to speak.’ 

‘* Monsieur Achille Pigoult will address the meeting,’’ said 
Beauvisage, who could now get through this sentence with due 
municipal and constitutional dignity. 

‘¢Gentlemen,’’ said the little notary, ‘‘ if there be in all 


24 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Arcis a house where no opposition ought to be made to the 
influence of the Comte de Gondreville and the Keller family, 
is it not this? The worthy colonel—Colonel Giguet—is the 
only member of this household who has not experienced the 
benefits of senatorial influence, since he never asked anything 
of the Comte de Gondreville, who, however, had his name 
erased from the list of exiles in 1815, and secured him the 
pension he enjoys, without any steps on the part of the colonel, 
who is the pride of our town——’”’ 

A murmur, flattering to the old man, ran through the 
crowd. 

‘¢ But,’’ the orator went on, ‘‘ the Marion family are loaded 
with the count’s favors. But for his patronage the late Col- 
onel Giguet never would have had the command of the Gen- 
darmes of this department. The late Monsieur Marion would 
not have been presiding judge of the Imperial Court here but 
for the count—to whom I, for my part, am eternally indebted. 
You will therefore understand how natural it is that I should 
take his part in this room. And, in fact, there are few per- 
sons in this district who have not received some kindness from 
that family.’’ 

There was a stir among the audience. 

‘‘A candidate comes forward,’’ Achille went on with some 
vehemence, ‘‘ and I have a right to inquire into his past before 
I intrust him with power to act for me. Now, I will not 
accept ingratitude in my delegate, for ingratitude is like mis- 
fortune—it leads from bad to worse. We have been a stepping- 
stone for the Kellers, you will say; well, what I have just lis- 
tened to makes me fear that we may become a stepping-stone 
for the Giguets. We live in an age of facts, do we not? 
Well, then, let us inquire what will be the results for the 
electors of Arcis if we return Simon Giguet ? 

‘‘Independence is your cry? Well, Simon, whom I am 
scouting as a candidate, is my friend—as he is the friend of 
all who hear me—and personally I should be delighted to see 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 25 


him as an orator of the Left, between Garnier-Pagés and Laf- 
fitte ; but what will be the result for the district represented? 
It will have lost the countenance of the Comte de Gondreville 
and the Kellers, and in the course of five years we shall all 
feel the want of one or the other. If we want to get leave for 
a poor fellow who is drawn for the conscription, we apply to 
the Maréchale de Carigliano. We rely on the Kellers’ interest 
in many matters of business which their good word settles at 
once. We have always found the old Comte de Gondreville 
kind and helpful; if you belong to Arcis, you are shown in 
without being kept waiting. Those three families know every 
family in the place. But where is the Maison Giguet’s bank, 
and what influence has it on the ministry? What credit does 
it command in the Paris markets? If we want to have a good 
stone bridge in the place of our wretched timber one, will the 
Giguets extract the necessary funds from the department and 
the State? 

‘* If we return Charles Keller, we shall perpetuate a bond of 
alliance and friendship which till now has been entirely to 
our advantage. By electing my good, my excellent friend 
and schoolfellow Simon Giguet, we shall be constantly the 
worse till he is in office! And I know his modesty too well 
to think that he will contradict me when I express a doubt as 
to his rapid advancement to the ministry! (Laughter.) 

‘‘T came to this meeting to oppose a resolution which, I 
think, would be fatal to our district. ‘Charles Keller is a 
courtier,’ I am told. So much the better. We shall not 
have to pay for his political apprenticeship; he knows all the 
business of the place and the requirements of parliamentary 
etiquette; he is more nearly a statesman than my friend 
Simon, who does not pretend, indeed, that he has trained 
himself to be a Pitt or a Talleyrand in our little town of 
Arcis-sur-Aube——”’ 

‘‘Danton was a native of Arcis!’’ cried Colonel Giguet, 
furious at this harangue, me was only too truthful. 


26 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘Hear, hear !’? The word was shouted, and sixty listeners 
clapped the speaker. 

‘¢ My father is very ready,’’ said Simon in an undertone to 
Beauvisage. 

“T cannot understand why, in discussing an election matter, 
there should be so much exaggeration of any ties between us 
and the Comte de Gondreville,’’ the old colonel went on, 
starting to his feet, while the blood mounted to his face. 
‘*My son inherits his fortune from his mother; he never 
asked the Comte de Gondreville for anything. If the count 
had never existed, my son would have been just what he is— 
the son of an artillery colonel who owes his promotion to his 
services—a lawyer who has always held the same opinions. I 
would say to: the Comte de Gondreville himself: ‘We have 
elected your son-in-law for twenty years. Now we wish to 
prove that when we did so it was of our own free-will, and we 
are returning an Arcis man to show that the old spirit of 1793 
—to which you owed your fortune—still lives on the native 
soil of Danton, Malin, Grévin, Pigoult, Marion And 
so——’”’ 

The old man sat down. 

There was a great commotion. Achille opened his mouth 
to speak. Beauvisage, who would not have felt himself pre- 
siding if he had not rung his bell, added to the racket by 
ringing for silence. It was by this time two o’clock. 

‘‘T must be permitted to point out to the honored colonel, 
whose feelings we can all understand, that he spoke without 
authority from the chair, which is contrary to parliamentary 
usage,’’ said Achille Pigoult. 

‘‘T see no necessity for calling the colonel to order,’’ said 
Beauvisage. ‘‘ As a father vs 

Silence was restored. 

‘We did not come here,’’ said Fromaget, ‘‘ to say Amen 
to everything put forward by the Giguets, father and son, 
and 











THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 27 


*“No, no!’ cried the audience. 

‘*This looks badly !’’ said Madame Marion to the cook. 

‘*Gentlemen,”’ said Achille, ‘‘I will confine myself to ask- 
ing my friend Simon Giguet to set forth categorically what he 
proposes to do to further our interests.”’ 

PeVes. yest.” 

‘¢And when, may I ask,’’ said Simon Giguet, ‘‘ did good 
citizens like the men of Arcis first begin to make the sacred 
mission of a deputy a matter of bargaining and business ?’’ 

It is impossible to overestimate the effect of fine sentiment 
on a crowd. Noble maxims are always applauded, and the 
humiliation of the country voted for all the same; just as a 
jail-bird, who yearns for the punishment of Robert Macaire 
when he sees the play, will nevertheless murder the first Mon- 
sieur Germeuil who comes in his way. 

‘* Hear, hear!’’ cried some thorough-going partisans. 

“‘If you send me to the Chamber, it will be to represent 
your principles—the principles of 1789—to be a cipher, if 
you will, of the Opposition ; but to vote with it, to enlighten 
the Government, to make war against abuses, and insist on 
progress in all particulars a 

‘But what do you call progress? Our notion of progress 
would be to bring all this part of the country under cultiva- 
tion,’’ said Fromaget. 

‘¢ Progress? I will explain to you what I mean by prog. 
ress,’’ cried Giguet, provoked by the interruption. 

‘Tt is the Rhine-frontier for France,’’ said Colonel Giguet, 
‘and the treaties of 1815 torn.across.’’ 

‘*Tt is keeping up the price of wheat and keeping down the 
price of bread!’’ said Pigoult mockingly, and uttering in 
jest one of the nonsensical cries which France believes in. 

“‘It is the happiness of the multitude achieved by the 
triumph of humanitarian doctrines.’’ 

‘‘What did I tell you?’’ the wily notary muttered to his 
neighbors. 





28 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢ Hush, silence—we want to hear!’’ said some. 

‘“¢Gentlemen,’’ said Mollot, with a fat smile, ‘‘ the debate 
is noisy; give your attention to the speaker; allow him to 
explain——”’ 

‘¢ Ba-a-a, ba-a-aa,’’ bleated a friend of Achille’s, who was 
gifted with a power of ventriloquism that was invaluable at 
elections. 

A roar of laughter burst from the audience, who were essen- 
tially men of their province. Simon Giguet folded his arms 
and waited till the storm of merriment should be over. 

‘If that was intended as a reproof,”’ he said, ‘‘a hint that 
I was marching with the flock of those noble defenders of the 
rights of man, who cry out, who write book after book—of 
the immortal priest who pleads for murdered Poland—of the 
bold pamphleteers—of those who keep an eye on the civil 
list—of the philosophers who cry out for honesty in the action 
of our institutions—if so, I thank my unknown friend. To 
me progress means the realization of all that was promised us 
at the Revolution of July ; electoral reform—and 

‘* Then you are a democrat,’’ interrupted Achille Pigoult. 

‘*No,’’ replied the candidate. ‘‘ Am Ia democrat because 
I aim at a regular and legal development of our institutions ? 
To me progress is fraternity among all the members of the 
great French family, and we cannot deny that much suffer- 
ing Be 

At three o’clock Simon Giguet was still explaining the 
meaning of progress, and some of the audience were emitting 
steady snores expressive of deep slumbers. 

Achille Pigoult had artfully persuaded them to listen in re- 
ligious silence to the speaker, who was sinking, drowning, in 
his endless phrases and parentheses. 








At that hour several groups of citizens, electors, and non- 
electors were standing about in front of the Chateau d’Arcis. 
The gate opens on to the place at a right angle to that of 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 29 


Madame Marion’s house. Several streets turn out of this 
square, and in the middle of it stands a covered market. 
Opposite the castle, on the farther side of the square, which 
is neither paved nor macadamized, so that the rain runs off in 
little gullies, there is a fine avenue known as the Avenue des 
Soupirs (of Sighs). Is this to the honor or the discredit of the 
women of the town? The ambiguity is, no doubt, a local 
witticism. 

While the discussion was at its height, to which Achille 
Pigoult had given a dramatic turn, with a coolness and dex- 
terity worthy of a member of the real Parliament, four men 
were pacing one of the lime-walks of the Avenue des Soupirs. 
When they came to the square they stopped with one accord 
to watch the townsfolk, who were buzzing round the castle 
like bees going into a hive at dusk. These four were the 
whole Ministerial party of Arcis: the sub-prefect, the public 
- prosecutor, his deputy, and Monsieur Martener, the examin- 
ing judge. 

‘“‘Well, I cannot understand what the Government is 
about,’’ the sub-prefect declared, pointing to the growing 
crowd. ‘The position is serious, and I am left without any 
instructions.”’ 

‘‘In that you are like many other people,’’ said Olivier 
Vinet, smiling. 

‘¢What complaint have you against the Government?’’ 
asked the public prosecutor. 

‘The ministry is in a difficulty,’’ said young Martener. 
‘*Tt is well known that this borough belongs, so to speak, to 
the Kellers, and it has no wish toannoy them. Some con- 
sideration must be shown to the only man who can at all 
compare with Monsieur de Talleyrand. It is to the Comte 
de Gondreville that the police should go for instructions, not 
to the prefect.’’ 

‘* And meanwhile,’”’ said Frédéric Marest, ‘‘ the Opposition 
is making a stir, and you see that Colonel Giguet’s influence 


? 


30 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


is strong. The mayor, Monsieur Beauvisage, is in the chair 
at this preliminary meeting.’’ 

‘After all,’’ said Olivier Vinet slily to the sub-prefect, 
‘¢Simon Giguet is a friend of yours, a schoolfellow. Even 
if he were a supporter of Monsieur Thiers, you would lose 
nothing by his being elected.”’ 

‘¢The present ministry might turn me out beioret its fall. 
We may know when we are likely to be kicked out, but we 
can never tell when we may get in again,’’ said Antonin 
Goulard. 

‘‘There goes Collinet the grocer. He is the sixty-seventh 
qualified elector who has gone into Colonel Giguet’s house,’’ 
said Monsieur Martener, fulfilling his functions as examining 
judge by counting the electors. 

‘‘If Charles Keller is the Ministerial candidate, I ought 
to have been informed,’’ said Goulard. ‘‘ Time ought not 
to have been given for Simon Giguet to get hold of the 
voters.”’ 

The four gentlemen walked on slowly to where the avenues 
end at the market-place. 

‘¢ There comes Monsieur Groslier!’’ said the judge, seeing 
a man on horseback. 

The horseman was the superintendent of the police. He 
saw the governing body of Arcis assembled on the highway, 
and rode up to the four functionaries. 

‘‘ Well, Monsieur Groslier?’’ questioned the sub-prefect, 
meeting him at a few paces from the other three. 

‘‘Monsieur,’’ said the police-officer in a low voice, ‘‘ Mon- 
sieur le Préfet sent me to tell you some very sad news—the 
Vicomte Charles Keller is dead. The news reached Paris by 
telegraph the day before yesterday; and the two Messieurs 
Keller, the Comte de Gondreville, the Maréchale de Carig- 
liano, in fact, all the family, came yesterday to Gondreville. 
Abd-el-Kader has reopened the fighting in Africa, and there 
has been some every hot work. The poor young man was 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 31 


one of the first victims to the war. You will receive con- 
fidental instructions, I was told to say, with regard to the 
election.”’ 

‘¢ Through whom ?”’ asked Goulard. 

‘‘If I knew, it would cease to be confidential,’’ replied 
the other. ‘‘ Monsieur le Préfet himself did not know. ‘It 
would be,’ he said, ‘a private communication to you from the 
minister.’ ”’ 

And he went on his way, while the proud and happy 
official laid a finger to his lips to impress on him to be 
secret. 

‘¢ What news from the prefecture ?’’ asked the public prose- 
cutor when Goulard returned to join the other three func- 
tionaries. 

‘‘Nothing more satisfactory,’’ replied Antonin, hurrying 
on as if to be rid of his companions. 

As they made their way toward the middle of the square, 
saying little, for the three officials were somewhat nettled by 
the hasty pace assumed by the sub-prefect, Monsieur Martener 
saw old Madame Beauvisage, Philéas’ mother, surrounded by 
almost all the people who had gathered there, and apparently 
telling them some long story. An attorney named Sinot, 
whose clients were the royalists of the town and district, and 
who had not gone to the Giguet meeting, stepped out of the 
crowd, and, hurrying up to Madame Marion’s house, rang the 
bell violently. 

‘‘What is the matter?’’ asked Frédéric Marest, dropping 
his eyeglass, and informing the other two of this proceeding. 

‘¢The matter, gentlemen,’’ replied Antonin Goulard, see- 
ing no occasion for keeping a secret which would at once be 
told by others, ‘‘is that Charles Keller has been killed in 
Africa, an event which gives Simon Giguet every chance! 
You know Arcis; there could be no Ministerial candidate 
other than Charles Keller. Parochial patriotism would rise 
in arms against any other “ 


’ 





32 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


‘‘ And will such a simpleton be elected?’’ asked Olivier 
Vinet,* laughing. 

The judge’s deputy, a young fellow of three-and-twenty, 
the eldest son of a very famous public prosecutor, whose pro- 
motion dated from the Revolution of July, had, of course, 
been helped by his father’s interest to get into the upper ranks 
of his profession. That father, still a public prosecutor, and 
returned as deputy by the town of Provins, is one of the but- 
tresses of the Centre. 

The free-and-easy air, and the sort of judicial conceit as- 
sumed by this little personage on the strength of his certainty 
of ‘‘ getting on,’’ annoyed Frédéric Marest, and all the more 
because a very biting wit effectually supported his young 
subaltern’s undisciplined freedom. The public prosecutor 
himself, a man of forty, who had waited six years under the 
Restoration to rise to the post of first deputy judge, and whom 
the Revolution of July had left stranded at Arcis, though he 
had eighteen thousand francs a year of his own, was always 
torn between his anxiety to win the good graces of the elder 
Vinet, who had every chance of becoming keeper of the 
seals—an office commonly conferred on a lawyer who sits in 
Parliament—and the necessity for preserving his own dignity. 
Olivier Vinet, a thin stripling, with fair hair and a colorless 
face, accentuated by a pair of mischievous greenish eyes, was 
one of those mocking spirits, fond of pleasure, who can at any 
moment assume the precise, pedantic, and rather abrupt man- 
ner which a magistrate puts on when in court. 

The burly public prosecutor, very stout and solemn, had, 
for a short time past, adopted a method by which, as he 
hoped, to get the upper hand of this distracting youth; he 
treated him as a father treats a spoilt child. 

‘‘ Olivier,’ said he to his deputy, patting him on the 
shoulder, ‘‘a man as clear-sighted as you are must see that 
Maitre Giguet is likely enough to be elected. You might 


* Fraisier’s rival in ‘Cousin Pons.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 33 


have blurted out that speech before the townsfolk instead of 
among friends.’’ 

_ But there is one thing against Giguet, 
sieur Martener. 

This worthy young fellow, dull, but with very capable 
brains, the son of a doctor at Provins, owed his position to 
Vinet’s father, who, during the long years when he had been 
a pleader at Provins, had patronized the townsfolk there as 
the Comte de Gondreville did those of Arcis. 

‘What ?’’ asked Antonin, 

‘Parochial feeling is tremendously strong against a man 
who is forced on the electors,’’ replied: the judge ; ‘‘ but when, 
in a place like Arcis, the alternative is the elevation of one of 
their equals, jealousy and envy get the upper hand even of 
local feeling.’’ 

‘¢ That seems simple enough,’’ said the public prosecutor, 
‘¢but it is perfectly true. If you could secure only fifty Min- 
isterial votes, you would not unlikely find the first favorite 
here,’’ and he glanced at Antonin Goulard. 

“¢Tt will be enough to set up a candidate of the same calibre 
to oppose Simon Giguet,’’ said Olivier Vinet. 

The sub-prefect’s face betrayed such satisfaction as could 
not escape the eye of either of his companions, with whom, 
indeed, he was on excellent terms. Bachelors all, and all 
well to do, they had without premeditation formed a defen- 
sive alliance to defy the dullness of a country town. The 
other three were already aware of Goulard’s jealousy of Giguet, 
which a few words here will suffice to account for. 

Antonin Goulard, whose father had been a huntsman in the 
service of the Simeuse family, enriched by investments in 
nationalized land, was, like Simon Giguet, a native of Arcis. 
Old Goulard left the Abbey of Valpreux—a corruption of 
Val-des-Preux—to live in the town after his wife’s death, and 
sent his son Antonin to school at the Lycée Impérial, where 
Colonel Giguet had placed his boy. 

3 


”? remarked Mon- 


34 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


In spite of his sufficiently evident personal advantages, and 
the cross of the Legion of Honor,* which the count had ob- 
tained for Goulard to compensate him for lack of promotion, 
and which he displayed at his button-hole, the offer of his heart 
and prospects had been civilly declined when, six months 
before the day when this narrative opens, Antonin had se- 
cretly called on Madame Beauvisage as her daughter’s suitor. 

As they walked just now, they both had guessed, and had 
told each other, the secret of Simon Giguet’s candidature, 
for they had got wind, the night before, of Madame Marion’s 
ambitions. Animated alike by the spirit of the dog in the 
manger, they were tacitly but heartily agreed in a determi- 
nation to hinder the young lawyer from winning the wealthy 
heiress who had been refused to them. 

‘* Heaven grant that I may be able to control the election !”’ 
said the sub-prefect, ‘‘and the Comte de Gondreville may get 
me appointed prefect, for I have no more wish to remain here 
than you have, though I am a native born.’’ 

“You have a very good opportunity of being elected 
deputy, sir,’’ said Olivier Vinet to Marest. ‘‘ Come and see 
my father, who will, no doubt, arrive at Provins within a few 
hours, and we will get him to have you nominated as the 
Ministerial candidate.’’ 

‘« Stay where you are,’’ said Goulard. ‘‘ The ministry has 
ideas of its own as to its candidate Ks 

‘Pooh! Why, there are two ministries—one that hopes 
to control the election, and one that means to profit by it,’’ 
said Vinet. 

‘* Do not complicate Antonin’s difficulties,’’ replied Fréd- 
éric Marest, with a knowing wink to his deputy. 

The four officials, now far away from the Avenue des 
Soupirs, crossed the market-place to the Mulet Inn on seeing 
Poupart come out of Madame Marion’s house. At that mo- 


* The Legion of Honor has five ranks: knights, officers, commanders, 
grand officers, grand-crosses. 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 35 


ment, in fact, the sixty-seven conspirators were pouring out 
of the carriage gate. 

‘«And you have been into that house?’’ asked Antonin 
Goulard, pointing to the wall of the Marions’ garden, backing 
on the Brienne road opposite the stables of the Mulet. 

‘And I go there no more, Monsieur le Sous-Préfet,’’ re- 
turned the innkeeper. ‘‘ Monsieur Keller’s son is dead; I 
have nothing more to do with it. God has made it His busi- 
ness to clear the way = 

‘‘ Well, Pigoult ?’’ said Olivier Vinet, seeing the whole of 
the Opposition coming out from the meeting. 

*¢ Well,’’ echoed the notary, on whose brow the moisture 
still testified to the energy of his efforts, ‘‘Sinot has just 
brought us news which resulted in unanimity. With the ex- 
ception of five dissidents—Poupart, my grandfather, Mollot, 
Sinot, and myself—they have all sworn, as at a game of tennis, 
to use every means in their power to secure the return of 
Simon Giguet—of whom I have made a mortal enemy. We 
all got very heated! At any rate, I got the Giguets to ful- 
minate against the Gondrevilles, so the old count will side 
with me. Not later than to-morrow he shall know what the 
self-styled patriots of Arcis said about him, and his corruption, 
and his infamous conduct, so as to shake off his protection, 
or, as they say, his yoke.”’ 

‘¢ And they are unanimous ?’’ said Vinet, with a smile. 

‘* To-day,’’ replied Monsieur Martener. 

‘Oh!’ cried Pigoult, ‘‘ the general feeling is in favor of 
electing a man of the place. Whom can you find to set up 
in opposition to Simon Giguet, who has spent two mortal 
hours in preaching on the word Progress ! ’’ 

‘* We can find old Grévin!’’ cried the sub-prefect. 

‘¢ He has no ambition,’’ said Pigoult. ‘‘ But first and fore- 
most we must consult the count. Just look,’’ he went on, 
‘¢how attentively Simon is taking care of that old noodle 
Beauvisage ! ’’ 





36 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


And he pointed to the lawyer, who had the mayor by the 
arm, and was talking in his ear. 

Beauvisage bowed right and left to all the inhabitants, who 
gazed at him with the deference of country towns-people for 
the richest man in the place. 

‘* He treats him asa father—and mother!’’ remarked Vinet. 

‘*Oh! he will do no good by buttering him up,’’ replied 
Pigoult, who caught the hint conveyed in Vinet’s retort. 
“* Cécile’s fate does not rest with either father or mother.’’ 

‘‘ With whom, then?’’ 

‘‘My old master. If Simon were the member for Arcis, 
he would be no forwarder in that matter.”’ 

Though the sub-prefect and Marest pressed Pigoult hard, 
they could get no explanation of this remark, which, as they 
shrewdly surmised, was big with meaning, and revealed some 
acquaintance with the intentions of the Beauvisage family. 

All Arcis was in a pother, not only in consequence of the 
distressing news that had stricken the Gondrevilles, but also 
because of the great resolution voted at the Giguets’—where, 
at this moment, Madame Marion and the servants were hard 
at work restoring order, that everything might be in readiness 
for the company who would undoubtedly drop in as usual in 
the evening in full force, attracted by curiosity. 


Champagne looks, and is, but a poor country. Its aspect 
is for the most part dreary, a dull plain. As you pass through 
the villages, or even the towns, you see none but shabby 
buildings of timber or concrete ; the handsomest are of brick. 
Stone is scarcely used even for public buildings. At Arcis 
the castle, the Palais de Justice, and the church are the only 
edifices constructed of stone. Nevertheless, the province— 
or, at any rate, the departments of the Aube, the Marne, and 
the Haute-Marne, rich in the vineyards which are famous 
throughout the world—also support many flourishing indus- 
tries. To say nothing of the manufacturing centre at Reims, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 37 


almost all the hosiery of every kind produced in France, a 
very considerable trade, is woven in and near Troyes. For 
ten leagues round the country is inhabited by stocking- 
weavers, whose frames may be seen through the open doors as 
you pass through the hamlets.. These workers deal through 
factors with the master speculator, who calls himself a manu- 
facturer. ‘The manufacturer sells to Paris houses, or, more 
often, to retail hosiers, who stick up a sign proclaiming them- 
selves manufacturing hosiers. 

None of these middlemen ever made a stocking, or a night- 
cap, orasock. A large proportion of such gear comes from 
Champagne—not all, for there are weavers in Paris who com- 
pete with the country workers. 

These middlemen, coming between the producer and the 
consumer, are a curse not peculiar to this trade. It exists in 
most branches of commerce, and adds to the price of the 
goods all the profit taken by the intermediary. To do away 
with these expensive go-betweens, who hinder the direct sale 
of manufactured goods, would be a benevolent achievement, 
and the magnitude of the results would raise it to the level of a 
great political reform. Industry at large would be benefited, 
for it would bring about such a reduction of prices to the 
home-consumer as is needed to maintain the struggle against 
foreign competition, a battle as murderous as that of hostile 
armies. 

But the overthrow of such an abuse as this would not secure 
to our modern philanthropists such glory or such profit as are 
to be obtained by fighting for the Dead Sea apples of negro 
emancipation, or the penitentiary system; hence this illicit 
commerce of the middlemen, the producer’s banker, will weigh 
for a long time yet on the workers and consumers alike. In 
France—so clever as a nation—it is always supposed that sim- 
plification means destruction. We are still frightened by the 
Revolution of 1789. 

The industrial energy that always thrives in a land where 


38 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Nature is a grudging step-dame, sufficiently shows what progress 
agriculture would make there if only wealth would join its 
partnership with the land, which is not more barren in Cham- 
pagne than in Scotland, where the outlay of capital has worked 
miracles. And when agriculture shall have conquered the 
unfertile tracts of that province, when industry shall have 
scattered a little capital on the chalk-fields of Champagne, 
prosperity will multiply threefold. The land is, in fact, 
devoid of luxury and the dwelling-houses are bare ; but Eng- 
lish comfort will find its way thither, money will acquire that 
rapid circulation which is half of what makes wealth, and 
which is now beginning in many of the torpid districts of 
France. 

Writers, officials, the church from its pulpits, the press in 
its columns—all to whom chance has given any kind of in- 
fluence over the masses—ought to proclaim it again and again: 
‘* Hoarding is a social crime.’’ The miserliness of the pro- 
vinces stagnates the vitality of the industrial mass and im- 
pairs the health of the nation. The little town of Arcis, for 
instance, on the way to nowhere, and apparently sunk in 
complete quiescence, is comparatively rich in the possession 
of capital slowly amassed in the hosiery trade. 

Monsieur Philéas Beauvisage was the Alexander—or, if you 
will, the Attila—of his native town. This is how that respect- 
able and hard-working man had conquered the dominion of 
cotton. He was the only surviving child of the Beauvisages, 
long settled on the fine farm of Bellache, part of the Gondre- 
ville estate; and in 1811 his parents made a considerable 
sacrifice to save him from the conscription by purchasing a 
substitute. Then his mother, as a widow, had again, in 1813, 
rescued her only son from being enlisted in the Guards by the 
good offices of the Comte de Gondreville. 

In 1813 Philéas, then twenty-one, had for three years past 
been engaged in the pacific business of a hosier. The lease 
of the farm of Bellache having run out, the farmer’s widow 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 39 


decided that she would not renew it. In fact, she foresaw 
ample occupation for her old age in watching the investment 
of her money. 

That her later days might not be disturbed by anxiety, she 
had a complete valuation made by Monsieur Grévin, the 
notary, of all her husband’s estate, though her son had made 
no claims on her; and his share was found to amount to 
about a hundred and fifty thousand francs. The good woman 
had not to sell her land, most of it purchased from Michu, 
the luckless steward of the Simeuse family. She paid her son 
in cash, advising him to buy up his master’s business. This 
old Monsieur Pigoult was the son of the old justice of the 
peace, and his affairs were already in such disorder that his 
death, as has been hinted, was supposed to have been due to 
his own act. 

Philéas Beauvisage, a prudent youth, with a proper respect 
for his mother, had soon concluded the bargain; and as he 
inherited from his parents the bump of acquisitiveness, as 
phrenologists term it, his youthful zeal was thrown into the 
business, which seemed to him immense, and which he pro- 
posed to extend by speculation. 

The Christian name Philéas, which may, perhaps, seem 
extraordinary, was one of the many whimsical results of the 
Revolution. The Beauvisages, as connected with the Simeuses, 
and consequently good Catholics, had their infant baptized. 
The curé of Cinq-Cygne, the Abbé Goujet, being consulted 
by the farmers, advised them to take Philéas as his patron 
saint, his Greek name being likely to find favor in the eyes 
of the municipality, for the boy was born at a time when chil- 
dren were registered by the strange names in the Republican 
kalendar. 

In 1814, hosiery—as a rule, a fairly regular trade—was 
liable to all the ups and downs of the cotton market. The 
price of cotton depended on the Emperor’s successes or 
defeats ; his adversaries, the English generals in Spain, would 


40 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


say: ‘The town is ours; send up the bales.’’ Pigoult, 
Philéas’ retiring master, supplied his weavers in the country 
with yarn. At the time when he sold his business to young 
Beauvisage, he had in stock a large supply of cotton yarns, 
purchased when they were at the dearest, while cotton was 
now being brought in through Lisbon in vast quantities at six 
sous the kilogramme, in virtue of the Emperor’s famous 
decree. The reaction in France, caused by the importation 
of this cheap cotton, brought about Pigoult’s death, and laid 
the foundation of Beauvisage’s fortune; for he, instead of 
losing his head like his old master, bought up twice as much 
cotton as his predecessor had in stock, and so struck a medium 
average price. This simple transaction enabled Philéas to 
triple his output of manufactured goods, while apparently a 
benefactor to the workers; and he could sell his produce in 
Paris and the provinces at a profit when others were merely 
recovering the cost price. By the beginning of 1814 his 
manufactured stock was exhausted. 

The prospect of war on French soil, which would be espe- 
cially disastrous to Champagne, made him cautious. He 
manufactured no more goods, and by realizing his capital in 
solid gold, stood prepared for the event. At that time the 
custom-houses were a dead letter. Napoleon had been obliged 
to enlist his thirty thousand customs officials to defend the 
country. Cotton, smuggled in through a thousand gaps in 
the hedge, was flung into every market. It is impossible to 
give an idea of the liveliness and cunning of cotton at that 
date, or of the avidity with which the English clutched at a 
country where cotton stockings were worth six francs a pair, 
and cambric shirts were an article of luxury. 

Manufacturers on a smaller scale and the master workmen, 
counting on Napoleon’s genius and luck, had invested in 
cotton coming through Spain. This they were working up, 
in the hope of presently dictating terms to the Paris retail 
stores. All this Philéas noted. Then, when the province 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 41 


was devastated by war, he stood between the army and Paris. 
As each battle was lost he went to the weavers who had hidden 
their goods in casks—silos of hosiery—and, cash in hand, this 
Cossack of the trade, going from village to village, bought up, 
below cost price, these barrels of stockings, which might fall 
any day into the hands of foes whose feet wanted covering as 
badly as their throats wanted liquor. 

At this period of disaster, Philéas displayed a degree of 
energy that was almost a match for the Emperor’s. This 
captain of the hosiery trade fought the commercial campaign 
of 18:4 with a courage that remains unrecognized. One 
league behind, wherever the general was one league in advance, 
he bought up cotton nightcaps and stockings as his trophies, 
while the Emperor in his reverses plucked immortal palms. 
The genius was equal in both, though exercised in widely 
different spheres, since one was eager to cover as many heads 
as the other hoped to fell. Compelled to create means of 
transport to save his casks full of stockings, which he stored 
in a Paris suburb, Philéas often requisitioned horses and 
wagons, as though the safety of the Empire depended on him. 
And was not the majesty of Trade as good as that of Napo- 
leon? Had not the English+merchants, after subsidizing 
Europe, got the upper hand of the giant who threatened their 
ships ? 

While the Emperor was abdicating at Fontainebleau, Philéas 
was the triumphant master of the ‘‘article.’’ As a result of 
his clever manceuvres, the price of cotton was kept down, and | 
he had doubled his fortune when many manufacturers thought 
themselves lucky to get rid of their goods at a loss of fifty per ' 
cent. He returned to Arcis with three hundred thousand 
francs, half of which, invested in the Funds, brought him 
fifteen thousand francs a year. One hundred thousand he 
used to double the capital needed for his business; and he 
spent the remainder in building, decorating, and furnishing a 
fine house in the Place du Pont, at Arcis, 


42 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


On his return in triumph, the hosier naturally confided his 
story to Monsieur Grévin. The notary had a daughter to 
marry, just twenty years of age. Grévin’s father-in-law, who 
for forty years had practiced as a doctor at Arcis, was at that 
time still alive. Grévin was a widower; he knew that old 
Madame Beauvisage was rich; he believed in the energy and 
capacity of a young man who had thus boldly utilized the 
campaign of 1814. Séverine Grévin’s fortune from her mother 
was sixty thousand francs. What was old Dr. Varlet to leave 
her? As much again, at most! Grévin was already fifty ; 
he was very much afraid of dying; he saw no chance, after 
the Restoration, of marrying his daughter as he would wish— 
for her he was ambitious. 

Under these circumstances, he contrived to have it sug- 
gested to Philéas that he should propose for Séverine. Made- 
moiselle Grévin, well brought up and handsome, was regarded 
as one of the good matches of the town. Also, the connec- 
tion with the most intimate friend of the Comte de Gondre- 
ville, who retained his dignity as a peer of France, was, of 
course, an honor for the son of one of the Gondreville 
farmers. The widow would, indeed, have made a sacrifice to 
achieve it. But when she héard that her son’s suit was suc- 
cessful, she held her hand, and gave him nothing, an act of 
prudence in which the notary followed suit. And thus the 
marriage was brought about between the son of the farmer 
who had been so faithful to the Simeuses, and the daughter of 
one of their most determined enemies. This, perhaps, was 
the only instance in which Louis XVIII.’s motto found 
application—‘‘ Union et oub/i”’ (union and oblivion). 

When the Bourbons returned for the second time, old Dr. 
Varlet died, at the age of seventy-six, leaving in his cellar 
two hundred thousand francs in gold, beside other property 
valued at an equal sum. Thus, in 1816, Philéas and his wife 
found themselves possessed of thirty thousand francs a year, 
apart from the profits of the business; for Grévin wished to 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 43 


invest his daughter’s money in land, and Beauvisage made no 
objection. The interest on Séverine Grévin’s share of her 
grandfather’s money amounted to scarcely fifteen thousand 
francs a year, in spite of the good opportunities for invest- 
ment which Grévin kept a lookout for. 

The two first years of married life were enough to show 
Grévin and his daughter how incapable Philéas really was. 
The hawk’s eye of commercial greed had seemed to be the 
effect of superior capacity, and the old notary had mistaken 
youthfulness for power, and luck for a talent for business. 
But though Philéas could read and write, and do sums to 
admiration, he had never read a book. Miserably ignorant, 
conversation with him was out of the question; he could re- 
spond by a deluge of commonplace, expressed pleasantly 
enough. But, as the son of a farmer, he was not wanting in 
commercial acumen. 

Other men must be plain with him, clear and explicit ; but 
he never was the same to his adversary. 

Tender and kind-hearted, Philéas wept at the least touch of 
pathos. This made him reverent to his wife, whose superi- 
ority filled him with unbounded admiration... Séverine, a 
woman of brains, knew everything—according to Philéas. 
And she was all the more accurate in her judgments because 
she consulted her father on every point. Also, she had a very 
firm temper, and this made her absolute mistress in her own 
house. As soon as this point was gained, the old notary felt 
less regret at seeing his daughter happy through a mastery 
which is always gratifying to a wife of determined character. 
Still, there was the woman ! 

This, it was said, was what befell the woman. 

At the time of the reaction of 1815, a certain Vicomte de 
Chargebceuf, of the poorer branch, was appointed sub-prefect 
at Arcis by the influence of the Marquise de Cinq-Cygne, to 
whom he was related. This young gentleman remained there 
as sub-prefect for five years. Handsome Madame Beauvisage, 


44 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


it was said, had something to do with the long stay—much 
too long for his advantage—made by the vicomte in this 
small post. At the same time, it must at once be said that 
these hints were never justified by the scandals which betray 
such love affairs, so difficult to conceal from the Argus eyes of 
a small country town. ‘‘If Séverine loved the Vicomte de 
Chargebceuf, if he loved her, it was a blameless and honora- 
ble attachment,’’ said all the friends of the Grévins and the 
Marions. And these two sets imposed their opinion on the 
immediate neighborhood. But the Grévins and the Marions 
had no influence over the Royalists, and the Royalists de- 
clared that the sub-prefect was a happy man. 

As soon as the Marquise de Cinqg-Cygne heard what was 
rumored as to her young relation, she sent for him to Cinq- 
Cygne; and so great was her horror of all who were ever so 
remotely connected with the actors in the judicial tragedy 
that had been so fatal to her family, that she desired the vis- 
count to live elsewhere. She got him appointed to Sancerre 
as sub-prefect, promising to secure his promotion. Some 
acute observers asserted that the viscount had pretended to be 
in love, so as to be made prefect, knowing how deeply the 
marquise hated the name of Grévin. Others, on the other 
hand, remarked on the coincidence of the Vicomte de Charge- 
boeuf’s visits to Paris with those made by Madame Beauvisage 
under the most trivial pretexts. An impartial historian would 
find it very difficult to form an opinion as to facts thus en- 
wrapped in the mystery of private life. 

A single circumstance seemed to turn the scale in favor of 
scandal. Cécile-Renée Beauvisage was born in 1820, when 
Monsieur de Chargebceuf was leaving Arcis, and one of the 
sous-préfet’s names was René. The name was given her by 
the Comte de Gondreville, her godfather. If the mother had 
raised any objection to her child’s having that name, she 
might possibly have confirmed these suspicions; and as the 
world must always be in the right, this was supposed to be a 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 45 


little bit of mischief on the part of the old peer. Madame 
Keller, the count’s daughter, was the godmother, and her 
name was Cécile. 

As to Cécile-Renée Beauvisage’s face, the likeness is strik- 
ing !—not to her father or her mother; as time goes on, she 
has become the living image of the viscount, even to his 
aristocratic manner. This likeness, moral and physical, has 
however escaped the ken of the good folk of Arcis, for the 
vicomte never returned there. 

At any rate, Séverine made Philéas happy in his own way. 
He was fond of good living and the comforts of life; she 
gave him the choicest wines, a table fit for a bishop, catered 
for by the best cook in the department; but she made no dis- 
play of luxury, keeping house in the style required by the 
plain citizens of Arcis. It was a saying at Arcis that you 
should dine with Madame Beauvisage, and spend the evening 
with Madame Marion. 

The importance to which the House of Cinq-Cygne was at 
once raised by the Restoration had naturally tightened the 
bonds that held together all the families in the district who 
had been in any way concerned in the trial as to the tem- 
porary disappearance of Gondreville. The Marions, the 
Grévins, and the Giguets held together all the more closely 
because, to secure the triumph of their so-called constitutional 
party at the coming elections, harmonious coéperation would 
be necessary. 

Séverine, of aforethought, kept Beauvisage busy with his 
hosiery trade, from which any other man might have retired, 
sending him to Paris or about the country on business. In- 
deed, till 1830, Philéas, who thus found work for his bump 
of acquisitiveness, earned every year as much as he spent, be- 
side the interest on his capital, while taking things easy and 
doing his work ‘‘in slippers,’’ as they say. Hence, the in- 
terest and fortune of Monsieur and Madame Beauvisage, in- 
yested for fifteen years past by the constant care of old Grévin, 


46 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


would amount, in 1830, to five hundred thousand francs. 
This, in fact, was at that time Cécile’s marriage-portion ; and 
the old notary invested it in three and a half per cents. 
bought at fifty, and so yielding thirty thousand francs a year. 
So no one was mistaken when estimating the fortune of the 
Beauvisages at a guess at eighty thousand francs a year. 

In 1830 they sold the business to Jean Violette, one of 
their agents, the grandson of one of the most important 
witnesses for the prosecution in the Simeuse trial, and had 
invested the purchase-money, estimated at three hundred 
thousand francs. And Monsieur and Madame Beauvisage 
had still in prospect the money that would come to them 
from old Grévin and from the old farmer’s widow, each sup- 
posed to be worth fifteen to twenty thousand francs a year. 

These great provincial fortunes are the product of time 
multiplied by economy. Thirty years of old age are in them- 
selves a capital. Even if they gave Cécile a portion of fifty 
thousand francs a year, Monsieur and Madame Beauvisage 
would still inherit two fortunes, beside keeping thirty thou- 
sand francs a year and their house at Arcis. 

As soon as the old Marquise de Cinq-Cygne should die, 
Cécile would be an acceptable match for the young marquis ; 
but that lady’s health—strong, and almost handsome still at 
the age of sixty—negatived any such hope, if, indeed, it had 
ever entered into the mind of Grévin and his daughter, as 
some persons asserted who were surprised at the rejection of 
suitors so eligible as the sub-prefect and the public prosecutor. 

The house built by Beauvisage, one of the handsomest in 
Arcis, stands in the Place du Pont, in a line with the Rue 
Vide-Bourse, and at the corner of the Rue du Pont, which 
slopes up to the Church Square. Though, like many pro- 
vincial town-houses, it has neither forecourt nor garden, it 
has a rather good effect in spite of some bad taste in the 
decorations. The house door—a double door—opens from the 
street. The windows on the first floor overlook the Poste 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 47 


Inn, on the street side, and on the side toward the square 
have a view of the picturesque reaches of the Aube, which is 
navigable below this bridge. On the other side of the bridge 
is a corresponding f/ace or square. Here stood Monsieur 
Grévin’s house, and here begins the road to Sézanne. 

The Beauvisage house, carefully painted white, might pass 
for being built of stone. The height of the windows and the 
enriched outside mouldings contribute to give the building 
a certain style, enhanced, no doubt, by the poverty-stricken 
appearance of most of the houses in the town, constructed as 
they are of timber, and coated with stucco made to imitate 
stone. Still, even these dwellings have a stamp of originality, 
since each architect, or each owner, has exerted his ingenuity 
to solve the problems of this mode of construction. 

On each of the open spaces at either end of the bridge, an 
example may be seen of this peculiar architecture. In the 
middle of the row of houses in the square, to the left of the 
Beauvisage house, may be seen the frail store—the walls 
painted plum-color, and the woodwork green—occupied by 
Jean Violette, grandson of the famous farmer of Grouage, one 
of the chief witnesses in the case of the senator’s disappear- 
ance ;* to him, in 1830, Beauvisage had made over his con- 
nection and his stock-in-trade, and, it was said, had lent him 
capital. 

The bridge of Arcis is of timber. At about a hundred 
yards above this bridge the current is checked by another 
bridge supporting the tall wooden buildings of a mill with 
several wheels. The space between the road bridge and this 
private dam forms a pool, on each side of which stand some 
good houses. Through a gap, and over the roofs, the hill is 
seen where stands the Chateau d’Arcis, with its gardens, its 
paddock, its surrounding walls and trees, commanding the 
upper river of the Aube and the poor meadows of the left 
bank. 


* These allusions are explained in “A Historical Mystery.” 


48 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


The character of the buildings is so various that the tourist 
might find a specimen representative of every country. On 
the North side of the pool, where ducks sport and gobble in 
the water, there is, for instance, an almost Southern-looking 
house with an incurved roof covered with pantiles, such as 
are used in Italy; on one side of it is a small garden plot on 
the quay in which vines grow over a trellis, and two or three 
trees. It recalls some corner of Rome, where, on the banks 
of the Tiber, houses of this type may be seen. Opposite, on 
the other shore, is a large dwelling with a pent-house roof 
and balconies like those of a Swiss chalet; to complete the 
illusion, between it and the weir lies a wide meadow, planted 
with poplars on each side of a narrow graveled path. And, 
crowning the town, the buildings of the castle, looking all 
the more imposing as it stands up amid such frail structures, 
seem to represent the one-time grandeur of the old French 
aristocracy. 

Though the two squares at the ends of the bridge are inter- 
sected by the Sézanne road, an abominable road too, and very 
ill kept, and though they are the liveliest spots in the town— 
for the offices of the justice of the peace and of the mayor of 
Arcis are both in the Rue Vide-Bourse—a Parisian would 
think the place strangely rustic and deserted. The landscape 
is altogether artless; standing on the square by the bridge, 
opposite the Poste Inn, a farmyard pump is to be seen; to be 
sure, for nearly half a century a similar one commanded our 
admiration in the grand courtyard of the Louvre. 

Nothing can more aptly illustrate provincial life than the 
utter silence that reigns in this little town, even in its busiest 
quarter. It may easily be supposed how agitating is the pres- 
ence of a stranger, even if he stays but half a day, and what 
eager faces lean from every window to watch him ; and, then, 
picture the chronic espionage exercised by the residents over 
each other. Life becomes so nearly monastic that, excepting 
on Sundays and féte-days, a visitor will not meet a creature 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 49 


on the boulevards or in the Avenue des Soupirs—nowhere, in 
short, not even in the streets. 

It will now be obvious why the front of Monsieur Beau- 
visage’s house was in a line with the street and the square: 
the square served asa forecourt. As he sat at the window, 
the retired hosier could get a raking view of the Church 
Square, of those at the two ends of the bridge, and of the 
Sézanne road. He could see the coaches and travelers arrive 
at the Hétel de la Poste. And on days when the court was 
sitting, he could see the stir in front of the justice-house and 
the mairie. And, indeed, Beauvisage would not have ex- 
changed his house for the castle in spite of its lordly appear- 
ance, its stone masonry, and its commanding position. 

On entering the house, you found yourself in a hall, and 
facing a staircase beyond. On the right was a large drawing- 
room, with two windows to the square, on the left a handsome 
dining-room looking on to the street. The bedrooms were 
on the second floor. 

In spite of their wealth, the Beauvisage household consisted 
of a cook and a housemaid, a peasant-woman who washed, 
ironed, and cleaned, not often being required to wait on ma- 
dame and mademoiselle, who waited on each other to fill up 
their time. Since the hosiery business had been sold, the 
horse and trap, formerly used by Philéas, and kept at the inn, 
had also been disposed of. 


Just as Philéas went in, his wife, who had been informed of 
the resolution passed at the meeting, had put on her shoes 
and her shawl to call on her father; for she rightly guessed 
that in the course of the evening Madame Marion would 
throw out some hints preliminary to proposing Simon for 
Cécile. 

After telling her about Charles Keller’s death, Philéas asked 
her opinion with a simplicity that proved a habit of respecting 
Séverine’s views on all subjects. 

4 


50 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUIS. 


‘What do you say to that, wife?’’ said he, and then sat 
down to await her reply. 

In 1839 Madame Beauvisage, though forty-four years of age, 
still looked so young that she might have been the ‘‘ double’’ 
of Mademoiselle Mars. If the reader can remember the 
most charming Céliméne ever seen on the stage of the Fran- 
cais, he may form an exact idea of Séverine Beauvisage. 
There were in both the same roundness of form, the same 
beautiful features, the same finished outline ; but the hosier’s 
wife was too short, and thus missed the dignified grace, the 
coquettish, the Za Sévigné style, which dwell in the memory of 
those who have lived through the Empire and the Restoration. 
And then provincial habits, and the careless way of dressing 
which Séverine had allowed herself to drift into for ten years 
past, gave a common look to that handsome profile and fine fea- 
tures, and she had grown stout, which disfigured what for the 
first twelve years of her married life had been really a magnifi- 
cent person. Séverine’s imperfections were redeemed by a 
queenly glance, full of pride and command, and by a turn of 
the head that asserted her dignity. Her hair, still black, long, 
and thick, crowning her head with a broad plait, gave her 
a youthful look. Her shoulders and bosom were as white 
as snow, but all too full and puffy, spoiling the lines of 
the throat and making it too short. Her arms, too stout and 
dimpled, ended in hands which, though pretty and small, were 
too plump. She was so overfull of life and health that the 
flesh, in spite of all her care, made a little roll above her shoe. 
A pair of earrings, without pendants, each worth a thousand 
crowns, adorned her ears. 

She had on a lace cap with pink ribbons, a morning-gown 
of delaine, striped in pink and gray, and trimmed with green, 
opening over a petticoat with a narrow frill of Valenciennes 
lace edging, and a green Indian shawl, of which the point 
hung to the ground. Her feet did not seem comfortable in 
their bronze kid shoes. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 51 


‘* You cannot be so hungry,”’ said she, looking at her hus- 
band, ‘* but that you can wait half an hour. My father will 
have finished dinner, but I cannot eat mine in comfort till I 
know what he thinks, and whether we ought to go out to 
Gondreville - 

** Yes, yes, gd, my dear; I can wait,’’ said the hosier. 

‘* Bless me! shall I never cure you of addressing me as 
tu ?’’* she exclaimed, with a meaning shrug. 

‘‘T have never done so in company by any chance—since 
1817,’’ replied Philéas. 

‘*But you constantly do so before your daughter and the 
servants——’’ 

“‘As you please, Séverine,’’ said Beauvisage dejectedly. 

‘Above all things, do not say a word to Cécile about the 
resolution of the electors,’? added Madame Beauvisage, who 
was looking at herself in the glass while arranging her shawl. 

‘¢ Shall I go with you to see your father ?’’ asked Philéas. 

‘No; stay with Cécile. Beside, Jean Violette is to call 
to-day to pay the rest of the money he owes you. He will 
bring you his twenty thousand francs. This is the third time 
he has asked for three months’ grace; grant him no more 
time, and if he cannot pay up, take his note of hand to Courtet 
the bailiff; we must do things regularly, and apply to the 
court. Achille Pigoult will tell you how to get the money. 
That Violette is the worthy descendant of his grandfather! I 
believe him quite capable of making money out of a bank- 
ruptcy. He has no sense of honor or justice.”’ 

‘« He is a very clever fellow,’’ said Beauvisage. 

‘*You handed over to him a connection and stock-in-trade 
that were well worth fifty thousand francs for thirty thousand, 
and in eight years he has only paid you ten thousand Bi 

‘‘T never had the law of any man,’’ replied Beauvisage, 








* 7 (thou) instead of vous (you) is used in domestic and familiar in- 
tercourse.—TRANSLATOR. 


52 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


‘‘and would rather lose my money than torment the poor 
fellow i 

‘*A poor fellow who is making a fool of you.’’ 

Beauvisage was silent. Finding nothing to say in reply to 
this brutal remark, he stared at the drawing-room floor. 

The gradual extinction of Beauvisage’s intellect was perhaps 
due to too much sleep. He was in bed every night by eight 
o’clock, and remained there till eight next morning, and for 
twenty years had slept for twelve hours on end without ever 
waking ; or, if such a serious event should supervene, it was to 
him the most extraordinary fact—he would talk about it all 
day. He then spent about an hour dressing, for his wife had 
drilled him into never appearing in her presence at breakfast 
till he was shaved, washed, and properly dressed. 

When he was in business he went off after breakfast to attend 
to it, and did not come in till dinner-time. Since 1832 he 
would call on his father-in-law instead, and take a walk or 
pay visits in the town. He always was seen in boots, blue 
cloth trousers, a white vest, and a blue coat, the dress insisted 
on by his wife. His linen was exquisitely fine and white, 
Séverine requiring him to have a clean shirt every day. This 
care of his person, so unusual in the country, contributed to 
the respect in which he was held, as in Paris we remark a man 
of fashion. 

Thus the outer man of this worthy and solemn nightcap- 
seller denoted a person of worship; and his wife was too 
shrewd ever to have said a word that could let the public of 
Arcis into the secret of her disappointment and of her hus- 
band’s ineptitude; while he, by dint of smiles, obsequious 
speeches, and airs of wealth, passed muster as a man of great 
importance. It was reported that Séverine was so jealous that 
she would not allow him to go out in the evening, while 
Philéas was expressing roses and lilies for his complexion 
under the weight of blissful slumbers. 

Beauvisage, whose life was quite to his mind, cared for by 





* 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 53 


his wife, well served by the two maids, and petted by his 
daughter, declared himself—and was—the happiest man in 
Arcis. Séverine’s feeling for her commonplace husband was 
not without the hue of protective pity that a mother feels for 
her children. She disguised the stern remarks she felt called 
upon to make to him under a jesting tone. There was not a 
more peaceful household; and Philéas’ dislike to company, 
which sent him to sleep, as he could not play any games of 
cards, had left Séverine free to dispose of her evenings. 

Cécile’s entrance put an end to her father’s embarrassment. 
He looked up. 

‘¢ How fine you are!’’ he exclaimed. 

Madame Beauvisage turned round sharply with a piercing 
look at her daughter, who blushed under it. 

‘‘Why, Cécile! who told you to dress up in that style ?’’ 
asked the mother. 

‘‘ Are we not going to Madame Marion’s this evening? I 
dressed to see how my gown fits.”’ 

“Cécile, Cécile!’’ said Séverine, ‘“‘why try to deceive 
your mother? It is not right; I am not pleased with you. 
You are trying to hide something Ke 

“¢ Why, what has she done ?’’ asked Beauvisage, enchanted 
to see his daughter so fresh and smart. 

‘sWhat has she done? I will tell her,’’ said the mother, 
threatening her only child with an ominous finger. 

Cécile threw her arms round her mother’s neck, hugged 
and petted her, which, in an only child, is a sure way of win- 
ning the day. 

Cécile Beauvisage, a young lady of nineteen, had dressed 
herself in a pale gray silk frock, trimmed with drandenburgs 
of a darker shade to look in front like a coat. The body, 
with its buttons and jockey tails, formed a point in front, and 
laced up the back, like stays. This sort of corse¢ fitted exactly 
to the line of the back, hips and bust. The skirt, with three 
rows of narrow fringe, hung in pretty folds, and the cut and 





54 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


style proclaimed the hand of a Paris dressmaker. A light 
handkerchief trimmed with lace was worn over the body. 
The heiress had knotted a pink kerchief round her throat, 
and wore a straw hat with a moss rose in it. She had fine, 
black netted mittens and bronze kid boots; in short, but for 
"a certain ‘‘Sunday-best ”’ effect, this turn-out, as of a figure 
in a fashion-plate, could not fail to charm her father and 
mother. And Cécile was a pretty girl, of medium height, 
and well proportioned. Her chestnut hair was dressed in 
the fashion of the day, in two thick plaits, forming loops on 
each side of her face, and fastened up at the back of her head. 
Her face, bright with health, had the aristocratic stamp which 
she had not inherited from her father or her mother. Thus 
her clear brown eyes had not a trace of the soft, calm, almost 
melancholy look so common in young girls. Sprightly, quick, 
and healthy, Cécile destroyed the romantic cast of her features 
by a sort of practical homeliness and the freedom of manner 
often seen in spoilt children. At the same time, a husband 
who should be capable of recommencing her education and 
effacing the traces of a provincial life might extract a charm- 
ing woman from this rough-hewn marble. 

In point of fact, Séverine’s pride of her daughter had coun- 
teracted the effects of her love for her. Madame Beauvisage 
had had firmness enough to bring her daughter up well; she 
had assumed a certain severity which exacted obedience and 
eradicated the little evil that was indigenous in the child’s 
soul. The mother and daughter had never been separated ; 
and Cécile was blessed with what is rarer among girls than is 
commonly supposed—perfect and unblemished purity of mind, 
innocence of heart, and genuine guilelessness. 

‘Your dress is highly suggestive,’? said Madame Beau- 
visage. ‘‘Did Simon Giguet say anything to you yesterday 
which you did not confide to me ?”’ 

‘Well, well!’’ said Philéas, ‘‘a man who is to be the 
representative of his fellow-citizens m 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 55 


‘‘My dear mamma,”’ said Cécile in her mother’s ear, ‘‘ he 
bores me to death—but there is not another man in Arcis!’”’ 

‘‘Your opinion of him is quite correct. But wait till we 
know what your grandfather thinks,’’ said Madame Beau- 
visage, embracing her daughter, whose reply betrayed great 
good sense, though it showed that her innocence had been 
tarnished by a thought of marriage. 

Monsieur Grévin’s house, situated on the opposite bank of 
the river, at the corner of the little square beyond the bridge, 
was one of the oldest in the town. It was built of wood, the 
interstices between the timbers being filled up with pebbles, 
and it was covered with a smooth coating of cement painted 
stone-color. In spite of this coquettish artifice, it looked, all 
the same, like a house built of cards. 

The garden, lying along the river bank, had a terrace wall 
with vases for flower-pots. 

This modest dwelling, with its stout wooden shutters painted 
stone-color like the walls, was furnished with a simplicity to 
correspond with the exterior. On entering you found your- 
self in a small pebbled courtyard, divided from the garden bya 
green trellis. On the first floor the old notary’s office had 
been turned into a drawing-room, with windows looking out 
on the river and the square, furnished with very old and very 
faded green Utrecht velvet. The lawyer’s study was now his 
dining-room. Everything bore the stamp of the owner, the 
philosophical old man who led one of those lives that flow 
like the waters of a country stream, the envy of political 
harlequins when at last their eyes are opened to the vanity of 
social distinctions, and when they are tired of a mad struggle 
with the tide of human affairs. 

While Séverine is making her way across the bridge to see 
if her father has finished his dinner, it may be well to give a 
few minutes’ study to the person, the life, and the opinions of 
the old man whose friendship with the Comte Malin de 
Gondreville secured him the respect of the whole neighbor- 


56 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


hood. This is a plain unvarnished tale of the notary who for 
a long time had been, to all intents and purposes, the only 
notary in Arcis. 

In 1787 two youths set out from Arcis with letters of recom- 
mendation to a member of the Council named Danton. This 
famous revolutionary was a native of Arcis. His house is still 
shown, and his family still lives there. This may perhaps 
account for the influence of the Revolution being so strongly 
felt in that part of the province. 

Danton articled his young fellow-countrymen to a lawyer of 
the Chatelet, who became famous for an action against the 
Comte Morton de Chabrillant concerning his box at the 
theatre on the occasion of the first performance of the 
‘* Mariage de Figaro,’? when the ‘ Parlement’’ took the 
lawyer’s side as considering itself insulted in the person of 
its legal representative. 

One of the young men was named Malin, and the other 
Grévin; each was an only son. Malin’s father was at time 
the owner of the house in which Grévin was now living. 
They were mutually and faithfully attached. Malin, a shrewd 
fellow, with good brains and high ambitions, had the gift of 
eloquence. Grévin, honest and hard-working, made it his 
business to admire Malin. 

They returned to the country when the Revolution began ; 
Malin as a pleader at Troyes, Grévin to be a notary at Arcis. 
Grévin, always Malin’s humble servant, got him returned as 
deputy to the Convention; Malin had Grévin appointed 
prosecuting magistrate at Arcis. Until the gth Thermidor, 
Malin remained unknown; he always voted with the strong 
to crush the weak; but Tallien showed him the necessity for 
crushing Robespierre. Then in that terrific parliamentary 
battle, Malin distinguished himself; he showed courage at the 
right moment. 

From that day he began to play a part asa politician; he 
was one of the heroes of the rank and file; he deserted from 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 57 


the party of the ‘*Thermidoriens’’ to join that of the 
‘** Clichiens,’’ and was one of the Council of Elders. After 
allying himself with Talleyrand and Fouché to conspire 
against Bonaparte, he—with them—became one of Bona- 
parte’s most ardent partisans after the victory of Marengo. 
Appointed tribune, he was one of the first to be elected to 
the Council of State, worked at the revision of the Code, 
and was soon promoted to senatorial dignity with the title 
of Comte de Gondreville. 

This was the political side of their career. Now for the 
financial side. 

Grévin was the most active and most crafty instrument of 
the Comte de Gondreville’s fortune in the district of Arcis. 
The estate of Gondreville had belonged to the Simeuse 
family, a good old house of provincial nobility, decimated by 
the guillotine, of which the two surviving heirs, both young 
soldiers, were serving in Condé’s army. The estate, sold as 
‘nationalized land, was purchased by Grévin for Malin, under 
Marion’s name. Grévin, in fact, acquired for his friend the 
larger part of the church lands sold by the Republic in the 
department of the Aube. Malin sent the sums necessary for 
these purchases, not forgetting a bonus to the agent. When, 
presently, the Directory was supreme—by which time Malin 
was a power in the Republic—the sales were taken up in his 
name. 

Then Grévin was a notary, and Malin in the Council of 
State ; Grévin became mayor of Arcis, Malin was senator and 
Comte de Gondreville. Malin married the daughter of a 
millionaire army-contractor ; Grévin married the only daugh- 
ter of Monsieur Varlet, the leading doctor in Arcis. The 
Comte de Gondreville had three hundred thousand francs a 
year, a fine house in Paris, and the splendid castle of Gondre- 
ville. One of his daughters married a Paris banker, one of 
the Kellers; the other became the wife of Marshal the Duc 


de Carigliano. 
c 


58 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Grévin, a rich man. too, with fifteen thousand francs a year, 
owned the house where he was now peacefully ending his 
days in strict economy, having managed his friend’s business 
for him, and bought this house from him for six thousand 
francs. The Comte de Gondreville was eighty years of age, 
and Grévin seventy-six. The peer, taking his walk in his 
park, the old notary in what had been that peer’s father’s 
garden, each in his warm morning wrapper, hoarded crown 
upon crown. Not acloud had chequered this friendship of 
sixty years. The notary had always been subservient to the 
member of the convention, the councilor of State, the sen- 
ator, the peer of France. 

After the Revolution of July, Malin, being in Arcis, had 
said to Grévin— 

‘‘Would you care to have the cross?’’ (of the Legion of 
Honor). 

‘¢ And what would I do with it ?’’ replied Grévin. 

Neither had ever failed the other. They had always ad- 
vised and informed each other without envy on one side or 
arrogance or offensive airs on the other. Malin had always 
been obliged to do his best for Grévin, for all Grévin’s pride 
was in the Comte de Gondreville. Grévin was as much the 
Comte de Gondreville as Malin himself. At the same time, 
since the Revolution of July, when Grévin, already an old 
man, had given up the management of the comte’s affairs, 
and when the count, failing from age and from the part he 
had played in so many political storms, was settling down to 
a quiet life, the old men—sure ofeach other’s regard, but no 
longer needing each other’s help—had met but rarely. On 
his way to his country place or on his return journey to Paris, 
the count would call on Grévin, who paid the count a visit or 
two while he was at Gondreville. 

Their children were scarcely acquainted. Neither Madame 
Keller nor the Duchesse de Carigliano had ever formed any 
intimacy with Mademoiselle Grévin either before or since her 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 59 


marriage to Beauvisage the hosier. This scorn, whether 
apparent or real, greatly puzzled Séverine. Grévin, as mayor 
of Arcis under the Empire, a man kind and helpful to all, 
had, in the exercise of his power, conciliated and overcome 
many difficulties. His good humor, bluntness, and honesty 
had won the regard and affection of his district; and beside, 
everybody respected him as a man who could command the 
favor, the power, and the influence of the Comte de Gondre- 
ville. 

By this time, however, when the notary’s active participa- 
tion in public business was a thing of the past, when for eight 
years he had been almost forgotten in the town of Arcis, and 
his death might be expected any day, Grévin, like his old friend 
Malin, vegetated rather than lived. He never went beyond 
his garden; he grew his flowers, pruned his trees, inspected 
his vegetables and his grafts—like all old men, he seemed to 
practice being a corpse. His life was as regular as clockwork. 

In all weathers he wore the same clothes: heavy shoes, 
oiled to keep out the wet, loose worsted stockings, thick gray 
flannel trousers strapped round the waist, without braces; a 
wide vest of thin sky-blue cloth with horn buttons, and a 
coat of gray flannel to match the trousers. On his head he 
wore a little round beaver-skin cap, which he never took off 
in the house. In the summer a black velvet cap took the 
place of the fur cap, and he wore an iron-gray cloth coat 
instead of the thick flannel one. 

He was of medium height, and stout, as a healthy old man 
should be, which made him move a little heavily; his pace 
was slow, as is natural to men of sedentary habits. Up by 
daybreak, he made the most careful and elaborate toilet ; he 
shaved himself, he walked round his garden, he looked at the 
weather and consulted the barometer, opening the drawing- 
room shutters himself. He hoed, he raked, he hunted out 
the caterpillars—he would always find occupation till breakfast- 
time. After breakfast he devoted two hours to digestion, 


60 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


thinking—of heaven knows what. Almost every day, between 
two and five, his grand-daughter came to see him, sometimes 
brought by the maid, and sometimes, more often, in fact, by 
her mother. 

There were days when this mechanical routine was upset. 
He had to receive the farmers’ rents, and payments in kind, 
to be at once resold ; but this little business was but once a 
month on a market-day. What became of the money? No 
one knew, not even Séverine or Cécile; on that point Grévin 
was as mute as the confessional. Still, all the old man’s 
feelings had in the end centred in his daughter and his grand- 
child ; he really loved them more than his money. 

This septuagenarian, so neat in his person, with his round 
face, his bald forehead, his blue eyes and thin white hair, had 
a tinge of despotism in his temper, as men have when they 
have met with no resistance from men and things. His only 
great fault, and that deeply hidden, for nothing had ever 
called it into play, was a persistent and terrible vindictiveness, 
a rancor which Malin had never roused. Grévin had always 
been at Malin’s service, but he had always found him grateful ; 
the count had never humiliated or offended his friend, whose 
nature he knew thoroughly. 

Séverine was affectionately attached to her father; she and 
her daughter never left the making of his linen to any one 
else. ‘They knitted his winter stockings, and watched his 
health with minute care. Before leaving the goodman’s 
house every day Séverine or Cécile inquired as to what his 
dinner was to be next day, and sent him early vegetables from 
market. 

Madame Beauvisage had always wished that her father 
should introduce her at the Chateau de Gondreville to make 
acquaintance with the count’s daughters ; but the prudent old 
man had frequently explained to her how difficult it would be 
to keep up any connection with the Duchesse de Carigliano, 
who lived in Paris, and seldom came to Gondreville, or with 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 61 


a woman of fashion, like Madame Keller, when she herself 
had a hosier’s store at Arcis. 

‘* Your life is settled,’’ said Grévin to his daughter. ‘‘ Place 
all your hopes of enjoyment in Cécile, who, when you give 
up business, will certainly be rich enough to give you the free 
and handsome style of living that you deserve. Choose a 
son-in-law who has ambitions and brains, and then you can 
some day go to Paris and leave that simpleton Beauvisage 
here. If I should live long enough to have a grandson-in- 
law, I will steer you over the sea of politics as I steered Malin, 
and you shall rise as high as the Kellers.’’ 

These words, spoken before the Revolution of 1830, and 
one year after the old notary had established himself in his 
little house, account for his calm existence. Grévin wished to 
live; he wished to start his daughter, his grand-daughter, and 
his great-grandchildren on the high road to greatness. Grévin 
was ambitious for the third generation. 

When he made that speech the old man was thinking of 
seeing Cécile married to Charles Keller, and at this moment 
he was mourning over his disappointed hopes; he did not 
know what determination to come to. 

Séverine found her father sitting on a wooden bench at the 
end of his terrace, under the blossoming lilacs, and taking his 
coffee, for it was half-past five. She saw at once by the sor- 
rowful gravity of her father’s expression that he had heard the 
news. In fact, the old count had sent a manservant to beg 
his friend to go tohim. Hitherto, Grévin had been unwilling 
to encourage his daughter’s hopes; but now, in the conflict of 
mingled considerations that struggled in his sorrowful mind, 
his secret slipped out. 

‘¢ My dear child,’’ said he, ‘‘ I had dreamed of such splen- 
did and noble prospects for your future life, and death has 
upset them all. Cécile might have been the Vicomtesse 
Keller; for Charles, by my management, would have been 
elected deputy for Arcis, and he would certainly some day 


62 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


have succeeded his father as peer. Neither Gondreville nor 
Madame Keller, his daughter, would have sneezed at Cécile’s 
sixty thousand francs a year, especially with the added pros- 
pect of a hundred thousand more which will come to you 
some day. You could have lived in Paris with your daughter, 
and have played your part as mother-in-law in the higher 
spheres of power.’’ 

Madame Beauvisage nodded approval. 

‘*But we are struck down by the blow that has killed this 
charming young man, who had already made a friend of the 
prince. And this Simon Giguet, who is pushing forward on 
the political stage, is a fool, a fool of the worst kind, for he 
believes himself an eagle. You are too intimate with the 
Giguets and the Marion family to refuse the alliance without 
a great show of reason, but you must refuse—’’ 

‘« We are, as usual, quite agreed, my dear father.’’ 

‘¢ All this necessitates my going to see my old friend Malin ; 
in the first place, to comfort him; and in the second place, 
to consult him. You and Cécile would be miserable with an 
old family of the Faubourg Saint-Germain; they would make 
you feel your humble birth in a thousand little ways. What 
we must look out for is one of Napoleon’s dukes who is in 
want of money; then we can get a fine title for Cécile, and 
we will tie up her fortune. 

‘You can say that I have arranged for the disposal of 
Cécile’s hand, and that will put an end to all such impertinent 
proposals as Antonin Goulard’s. Little Vinet is sure to come 
forward ; and of all the suitors who will nibble at her fortune, 
- heisthe more preferable. He is clever, pushing, and connected 
through his mother with the Chargebceufs. But he is too 
determined not to be master, and he is young enough to make 
her love him; between the two you would be done for. I 
know what you are, my child !”’ 

‘*T shall feel very much embarrassed this evening at the 
Marions,”’’ said Séverine. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 63 


*€ Well, my dear, send Madame Marion to me. _ I will talk 
to her!”’ 

‘“‘IT knew that you were planning for our future, dear 
father, but I had no idea that it would be anything so bril- 
liant,’’ said Madame Beauvisage, taking her father’s hands 
and kissing them. 

‘‘T have planned so deeply,’’ replied Grévin, ‘‘that in 
1831 I bought a house you know very well—the Hotel Beau- 
séant——”’ 

Madame Beauvisage started with surprise at hearing this 
well-kept secret, but she did not interrupt her father. 

‘Tt will be my wedding-gift,’’ he added. ‘I let it in 
1832 to some English, for seven years, at twenty-four thou- 
sand francs a year—a good stroke of business, for it only cost 
’ me three hundred and twenty-five thousand, and I have got 
back nearly two hundred thousand. The lease is out on the 
15th of July next.”’ 

Séverine kissed her father on the forehead and on both 
cheeks. This last discovery promised such splendor in the 
future that she was dazzled. 

‘‘Tf my father takes my advice,”’ said she to herself, as she 
recrossed the bridge, ‘‘ he will leave the property only in 
reversion to his grandchildren, and I shall have the life- 
interest ; I do not wish that my daughter and her husband 
should turn me out of their house; they shall live in mine.’’ 

At dessert, when the two maids were dining in the kitchen, 
and Madame Beauvisage was sure of not being overheard, she 
thought it well to give Cécile a little lecture. 

“¢ My dear child,’’ said she, ‘‘ behave this evening as a well- 
brought-up girl should; and henceforth try to have a quiet, 
reserved manner; do not chatter too freely, nor walk about 
alone with Monsieur Giguet, or Monsieur Olivier Vinet, or 
the sub-prefect, or Monsieur Martener—or anybody, in short, 
not even Achille Pigoult. You will never marry any young 
man of Arcis or of the department. Your fate will be to shine 


64 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCS. 


in Paris. You shall have some pretty dresses for every-day 
wear, to accustom you to being elegant; and I will try to 
bribe some waiting-woman of the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse’s 
to find out where the Princesse de Cadignan and the Marquise 
de Cing-Cygne buy their things. Oh, we will not look in the 
least provincial! You must practice the piano three hours a 
day, and I will have Moise over from Troyes daily until I 
can find out about a master who will come from Paris. You 
must cultivate all your talents, for you have not more than a 
year before you at most before getting married. So, now, I 
have warned you, and I shall see how you conduct yourself 
this evening. You must keep Simon at arm’s length without 
making him ridiculous.’’ 

‘‘ Be quite easy, ma’am, I will begin at once to adore the 
Unknown.’’ 

This speech, which made Madame Beauvisage smile, needs 
a word of explanation. 

‘Ah, I have not seen him yet,’’ said Philéas, ‘* but every- 
body is talking of him. When I want to know whom he is, 
I will send the sergeant or Monsieur Groslier to inspect his 
passport.”’ 

There is not a country town in France where sooner or later 
the Comedy of the Stranger is not played. The Stranger is 
not infrequently an adventurer who takes the natives in, and 
goes off, carrying with him a woman’s reputation or a family 
cash-box. 

Now, the possible accession of Simon Giguet to representative 
power was not the only great event ofthe day. The attention 
of the citizens of Arcis had been much engaged by the pro- 
ceedings of an individual who had arrived three days pre- 
viously, and who was, as it happened, the first Stranger to the 
rising generation. Hence, the ‘‘ Unknown”’ was the chief 
subject of conversation in every family circle. He was the 
log that had dropped from the clouds into a community of 
frogs. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 65 


All the residents of Arcis-sur-Aube know each other, and 
they know every drummer who comes on business from the 
Paris houses; thus, as in every small town in a similar posi- 
tion, the arrival of a stranger in Arcis sets all tongues wag- 
ging, and excites every imagination, if he should stay more 
than two days without announcing his name and business. 

Now, while Arcis was still stagnantly peaceful, three days 
before that on which—by the fiat of the creator of so many 
fictions—this story begins, everybody had witnessed the ar- 
rival, by the road from La Belle-Etoile, of a Stranger, ina neat 
tilbury, driving a well-bred horse, and followed by a tiger no 
bigger than your thumb, mounted on a saddle-horse. The 
coach in connection with the mails for Troyes had brought from 
La Belle-Etoile three trunks from Paris, with no name on them, 
but belonging to the new-comer, who took rooms at the Mulet. 
Everybody in Arcis that evening supposed that this individual 
wanted to purchase land at Arcis, and he was spoken of in 
many family councils as the future owner of the castle. 

The tilbury, the traveler, the tiger, and the steeds all 
seemed to have dropped from some very superior social 
sphere. The stranger, who was tired no doubt, remained in- 
visible ; perhaps he spent part of his time in settling in the 
rooms he selected, announcing his intention of remaining 
some little time. He insisted on seeing where his horses were 
housed in the stable, and was exceedingly particular; they 
were to be kept apart from those belonging to the inn, and 
from any that might arrive. So much eccentric care led the 
host of the Mulet to the conclusion that the visitor must be an 
Englishman. 

On the very first evening some attempts were made on the 
Mulet by curious inquirers ; but no information was to be got- 
ten out of the little groom, who refused to give any account of 
his master, not by misleading answers or silence, but by such 
banter as seemed to indicate deep depravity far beyond his 
years. 

5 


66 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


After a careful toilet, the visitor ate his dinner at about six 
o’clock, and then rode out, his groom in attendance, on the 
Brienne road, and returned very late. The innkeeper, his 
wife, and the chambermaids vainly examined the stranger’s 
luggage and possessions; they discovered nothing that could 
throw any light on the mysterious visitor’s rank, name, pro- 
fession, or purpose. 

The effect was incalculable ; endless surmises were put for- 
ward, such as might have justified the intervention of the 
public prosecutor. 

When he returned, the stranger admitted the mistress of 
the house, who laid before him the volume in which, by the 
regulations of the police, he was required to write his name 
and dignity, the object of his visit, and the place whence he 
came. 

‘I shall write nothing whatever, madame,’’ said he to the 
innkeeper’s wife. ‘If anybody troubles you on the subject, 
you can say that I refused, and send the sub-prefect to me if 
you like, for I have no passport. People will ask you a great 
many questions about me, madame,’’ he added. ‘‘And you 
can answer what you please; I do not intend that you should 
know anything about me, even if you should obtain informa- 
tion inspite of me. If you annoy me, I shall go to the Hotel 
de la Poste, on the square by the bridge ; and, observe, that I 
propose to remain a fortnight at least. I should be very sorry 
to go, for I know you to be a sister of Gothard, one of the 
heroes of the Simeuse case.’’ 

‘‘Certainly sir!’’ replied the sister of Gothard—the Cinq- 
Cygnes’ steward. 

After this, the stranger had no difficulty in detaining the 
good woman for nearly two hours, and extracting from her all 
she could tell him concerning Arcis—everybody’s fortune, 
everybody’s business, and who all the officials were. 

Next morning he again rode out attended by the tiger, and 
did not come in till midnight, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 67 


The reader can now understand Cécile’s little jest, which 
Madame Beauvisage thought had nothing in it. 

Beauvisage and Cécile, equally surprised by the order of 
the day set forth by Séverine, were no less delighted. While 
his wife was changing her dress to go to Madame Marion’s, 
the father listened to the girl’s hypotheses—guesses such as a 
young lady naturally indulges in under such circumstances. 
Then, tired by the day’s work, as soon as his wife and daugh- 
ter were gone, he went to bed. 

As all may suppose who know France, or the province of 
Champagne—which is not quite the same thing—or yet more, 
the ways of country towns, there was a perfect mob in Madame 
Marion’s room that evening. Simon Giguet’s success was re- 
garded as a victory over the Comte de Gondreville, and the 
independence of Arcis in electioneering matters as established 
for ever. The news of poor Charles Keller’s death was 
felt to be a special dispensation from heaven, and silenced 
rivalry. 

Antonin Goulard, Frédéric Marest, Olivier Vinet, Monsieur 
Martener, in short, all the authorities who had ever fre- 
quented the house, whose opinions could hardly be adverse to 
the Government as established by popular suffrage in July, 
1830, were there as usual, but all brought thither by curiosity 
as to the attitude assumed by the Beauvisages, mother and 
daughter. 

The drawing-room, restored to order, bore no traces of 
the meeting which had presumably decided Maitre Simon’s 
fate. 

By eight o’clock, four card-players, at each of the four 
tables, were busily occupied. The small drawing-room and 
the dining-room were full of company. 

“Tt is the dawn of advancement,’’ said Olivier, remarking 
to her on a sight so delightful to a woman who is fond of en- 
tertaining. 

“It is impossible to foresee what Simon may rise to,”’’ re- 


68 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


plied Madame Marion. ‘‘ We live in an age when a man 
who has perseverance and the art of getting on may aspire to 
the best.”’ 

This speech was made less to Vinet than for the benefit of 
Madame Beauvisage, who had just come in with her daughter 
and congratulated her friend. 

Cécile went to gossip with Mademoiselle Mollot, one of her 
bosom friends, and seemed more affectionate to her than ever. 
Mademoiselle Mollot was the beauty of Arcis, as Cécile was 
the heiress. M. Moliot, clerk of assize at Arcis, lived in the 
Grande Place, in a house situated very much as that of the 
Beauvisages was at the bridge end. Madame Mollot, who 
never sat anywhere but at the drawing-room window on the 
first floor, suffered in consequence from acute and chronic 
curiosity, a permanent and inveterate malady. Madame 
Mollot devoted herself to watching her neighbors, as a ner- 
vous woman talks of her ailments, with airs, and graces, and 
thorough enjoyment. If a countryman came on the square 
from the road to Brienne, she watched and wondered what 
his business could be at Arcis, and her mind knew no rest till 
she could account for that peasant’s proceedings. She spent 
her whole life in criticising events, men and things, and the 
household affairs of Arcis. 

She was a tall, meagre woman, the daughter of a judge at 
Troyes, and she had brought Monsieur Mollot, formerly Gré- 
vin’s managing clerk, fortune enough to enable him to pay for 
his place as clerk of assize. The clerk of assize ranks witha 
judge, just as in the Supreme Court the chief clerk ranks witha 
councilor. Monsieur Mollot owed his nomination to the 
Comte de Gondreville, who had settled the matter by a word 
in season at the chancellor’s office in favor of Grévin’s clerk. 
The whole ambition of these three persons—Mollot, his wife, 
and his daughter—was to see Ernestine Mollot, who was an 
only child, married to Antonin Goulard. Thus the rejection 
by the Beauvisages of every advance on the part of the sub- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 69 


prefect had tightened the bonds of friendship between the two 
families. 

‘¢There is a much-provoked man!’’ said Ernestine to 
Cécile, pointing to Simon Giguet. ‘‘ He is pining to come 
and talk to us; but everybody who comes in feels bound to 
congratulate and detain him. Fifty times at least I have 
heard him say: ‘The good-will of my fellow-citizens is toward 
my father, I believe, rather than myself; be that as it may, 
rely upon it, I shall devote myself not merely to our common 
interests, but more especially to yours.’ I can hear the 
words from the movement of his lips, and every time he 
looks round at you with the eyes of a martyr.” 

‘¢ Ernestine,’’ said Cécile, ‘‘stay by me all the evening, 
for I do not want to hear his hints hidden under speeches 
full of A/as / and punctuated with sighs.”’ 

‘¢Then you do not want to be the wife of a keeper of the 
seals !’’ 

‘Have they got no higher than that?’’ said Cécile, 
laughing. 

‘*T assure you,’’ said Ernestine, ‘‘ that just now, before 
you came in, Monsieur Godivet the registrar declared in his 
enthusiasm that Simon would be keeper of the seals before 
three years were out.”’ 

“« And do they rely on the patronage of the Comte de Gon- 
dreville?’’ asked Goulard, seating himself by the two girls, 
with a shrewd suspicion that they were laughing at his friend 
Giguet. 

‘“¢ Ah, Monsieur Antonin,’’ said pretty Ernestine, ‘‘ you 
promised my mother to find out who the handsome stranger 
is! What is your latest information ?’”’ 

‘The events of to-day, mademoiselle, have been of far 
greater importance,’’ said Antonin, seating himself by Cécile 
like a diplomatist enchanted to escape from general observa- 
tion by taking refuge with a party of girls. ‘* My whole 
career as sub-prefect or full prefect hangs in the balance.”’ 


? 


70 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘“Why! Will you not allow your friend Simon to be re- 
turned as unanimously elected ?”’ 

‘‘Simon is my friend, but the Government is my master, 
and I mean to do all I can to hinder Simon’s return. And 
Madame Mollot ought to lend me her assistance as the wife 
of a man whose duties attach him to the Government.’’ 

‘‘We are quite prepared to side with you,’’ said Madame 
Mollot. ‘My husband told me,’’ she went on in an under- 
tone, “of all the proceedings here this morning. It was 
lamentable! Only one man showed any talent—Achille 
Pigoult. Every one agrees in saying that he is an orator, and 
would shine in Parliament. And though he has nothing, and 
my daughter is an only child with a marriage-portion of sixty 
thousand francs—to say nothing of what we may leave her— 
and money from her father’s uncle the miller, and from my 
Aunt Lambert at Troyes—well, I declare to you that if Mon- 
sieur Achille Pigoult should do us the honor of proposing for 
her, for my part, I would say yes—that is, if my daughter 
liked him well enough. But the little simpleton will not 
marry any one she does not fancy. It is Mademoiselle Beau- 
visage who has put that into her head.” 

The sub-prefect took this broadside as a man who knows 
that he has thirty thousand francs a year of his own, and 
expects to be made prefect. 

‘** Mademoiselle Beauvisage is in the right,’’ said he, look- 
ing at Cécile ; ‘she is rich enough to marry for love.’’ 

‘* We will not discuss marriage,’’ said Ernestine. ‘It only 
distresses my poor little Cécile, who was confessing to me just 
now that if she could only be married for love, and not for her 
money, she would like to be courted by some stranger who 
knew nothing of Arcis or the fortunes which are to make her 
a female Croesus ; and she only wishes she could go through 
some romantic adventure that would end in her being loved 
and married for her own sake fe 

‘‘That is avery pretty idea. I always knew that Made- 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. vp 


moiselle had as much wit as money!’’ exclaimed Olivier 
Vinet, joining the group, in detestation of the flatterers sur- 
rounding Simon Giguet, the idol of the day. 

‘And that was how, from one thing to another, we were 
led to talk of the Unknown——’”’ 

‘‘And then,’’ added Ernestine, ‘she thought of him as 
the possible hero of the romance I have sketched i 

‘* Ohi!’ cried Madame Mollot, ‘‘a man of fifty! Never!” 

‘*How do you know that he is a man of fifty?’’ asked 
Vinet, with a smile. 

‘“*To tell the truth,’’ said Madame Mollot, ‘‘I was so 
mystified, that this morning I took my opera-glasses ss 

‘* Well done! ’’ exclaimed the inspector of works, who was 
courting the mother to win the daughter. 

‘*And so,’’ Madame Mollot went on, ‘‘I could see the 
stranger shaving himself—with such elegant razors! Gold 
handles—or silver-gilt.’’ 

**Gold! gold!’’ cried Vinet. ‘* When there is any doubt, 
let everything be of the best! And I, who have never even 
seen the gentleman, feel quite sure that he is at least a count.”’ 
This, which was thought very funny, made everybody laugh.* 

The little group who could be so merry excited the envy of 
the dowagers and attracted the attention of the black-coated 
men who stood round Simon Giguet. As to Giguet himself, 
he was in despair at not being able forthwith to lay his fortune 
and his prospects at the heiress’ feet. 

‘Oh, my dear father,’’ thought the deputy clerk, finding 
himself complimented for the involuntary witticism, ‘‘ what 
a place you have sent me to as a beginning of my experience ! 
A count—comfe with an m, ladies,’’ he explained. ‘‘A man 
as illustrious by birth as he is distinguished in manners; note- 
worthy for his fortune and his carriages—a dandy, a man of 
fashion—a lemon-kid-glove man a 











* There isa pun inthe French on the words com/e, a count, and conte, 
a romance, a fib, 


72 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘He has the smartest tilbury you ever saw, Monsieur 
Olivier,’’ said Ernestine. 

‘‘And you never told me of his tilbury, Antonin, this 
morning when we were discussing this dark conspirator; the 
tilbury is really an attenuating circumstance. A man witha 
tilbury cannot be a Republican.’’ 

** Young ladies,’’ said Antonin Goulard, ‘there is nothing 
I would not doto promote your pleasure. We will know, 
and that soon, if he is a com¢e with an m, so that you may 
be able to construct your confe with an .’’* 

‘*And it may then become history,’ said the engineer. 

“As written for the edification of sub-prefects,’’ said Olivier 
Vinet. 

‘* And how will you set about it?’’ asked Madame Mollot. 

‘‘Ah!’’ replied the sub-prefect. ‘If you were to ask 
Mademoiselle Beauvisage whom she would marry, if she were 
condemned to choose from the men who are here now, she 
would not tell you! You must grant some reticence to power. 
Be quite easy, young ladies, in ten minutes you shall know 
whether the stranger is a count or a drummer.”’ 

Antonin left the little coterie of girls—for there were beside 
Cécile and Ernestine, Mademoiselle Berton, the daughter of 
the collector of revenue, an insignificant damsel who was a 
sort of satellite to the heiress and the beauty, and Made- 
moiselle Herbelot, sister of the second notary of Arcis, an 
old maid of thirty, sour, pinched, and dressed after the man- 
ner of old maids—she wore a green tabinet gown, and a 
kerchief with embroidered corners, crossed and knotted in 
front after the manner in fashion during the Reign of Terror. 

‘Julien,’ said the sub-prefect to his servant in the vesti- 
bule, ‘‘ you were in service for six months with the Gondre- 
villes ; do you know a count’s coronet when you see it ?’’ 

‘*It has nine points, sir, with balls.’’ 

‘Very good. Then go over to the Mulet and try to get a 

* Conte—story. Come and con¢e are pronounced alike—conte. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 73 


look at the tilbury belonging to the strange gentleman who is 
staying there ; and come back and tell me what is painted on 
it. Do the job cleverly, pick up anything you can hear. If 
you see the little groom, ask him at what hour to-morrow his 
master can receive the sub-prefect—say Monsieur le Comte, 
if by chance you see such a coronet. Don’t drink, say noth- 
ing, come back quickly, and when you return let me know by 
just showing yourself at the drawing-room door.”’ 

‘Yes, Monsieur le Sous-préfet.’’ 

The Mulet Inn, as has been said, stands on the square at 
the opposite corner to the garden wall of Madame Marion’s 
house on the other side of the Brienne road. So the problem 
would be quickly solved. 

Antonin Goulard returned to his seat by Mademoiselle 
Beauvisage. 

‘¢ We talked of him so much here last evening,’’ Madame 
Mollot was saying, ‘‘ that I dreamed of him all night ed 

‘“¢ Dear, dear!’’ said Vinet; ‘do you still dream of the 
Unknown, fair lady ?’’ 

‘¢You are very impertinent. I could make you dream of 
me if I chose!’’ she retorted. ‘‘So this morning when I 
got up e 

It may here be noted that Madame Mollot was regarded at 
Arcis as having a smart wit—that is to say, she talked fluently, 
and took an unfair advantage of the gift. A Parisian wander- 
ing in those parts, like the Stranger in question, would have 
probably thought her an intolerable chatterbox. 

—‘‘and was dressing, in the natural course of things, as I 
looked straight before me——’’ 

*¢Out of window ?”’ said Goulard. 

‘*Certainly. My dressing-room looks out on the market- 
place. You must know that Poupart has given the Stranger 
one of the rooms that face mine——”’ 

‘‘One room, mamma!’”’ exclaimed Ernestine. ‘‘ The 
count has three rooms! ‘The groom, who is all in black, is 








74 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


in the first room ; the second has been turned into a sort of 
drawing-room ; and the gentleman sleeps in the third.’’ 

“¢ Then he has half the inn,’’ remarked Mademoiselle Her- 
belot. 

‘¢Well, what has that to do with the man himself?’’ said 
Madame Mollot, vexed at being interrupted by girls; ‘‘I am 
speaking of his person.’’ 

‘¢Do not interrupt the orator,’ said Olivier Vinet. 

** As I was stooping a 

‘¢ Sitting,’’ said Antonin Goulard. 

‘¢ Madame was as she ought to be—dressing, and looking 
at the Mulet,’’ said Vinet. 

These pleasantries are highly esteemed in the country; for 
everybody has said everything there for too long not to be 
content with the same nonsense as amused our fathers before 
the importation of English prudery, one of the forms of mer- 
chandise which custom-houses cannot prohibit. 

‘Do not interrupt the orator,’’ said Mademoiselle Beau- 
visage to Vinet, with a responsive smile. 

—‘‘ my eyes involuntarily fell on the window of the room 
in which last night the Stranger had gone to bed—at what 
hour I cannot imagine, for I lay awake till after midnight ! 
It is my misfortune to have a husband who snores till the walls 
and ceiling tremble. If I get to sleep first, I sleep so heavily 
that I hear nothing ; but if Mollot gets the start, my night’s 
rest is done for.”’ 

‘There is a third alternative—you might go off together,’’ 
said Achille Pigoult, coming to join this cheerful party. ‘It 
is your slumbers that are in question, I perceive is 

‘‘ Hold your tongue, and get along with you,’’ said Mad- 
ame Mollot, very graciously. 

‘* You see what that means?’’ said Cécile in Ernestine’s 
ear. 

‘*Well, he had not come in by one o’clock,’’ Madame 
Mollot went on. 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUS, 75 


‘*He is a fraud! Sneaking in when you could not see 
him,’’ said Achille Pigoult. ‘*Oh, he is a knowing one, you 
may depend! He will get us all into a bag and sell us on the 
market-place !”’ 

‘*To whom ?’’ asked Vinet. 

‘To a business, to an idea, to a system!’’ replied the 
notary, and the other lawyer answered with a cunning smile. 

‘‘ Imagine my surprise,’” Madame Mollot returned, ‘‘ when 
I caught sight of a piece of stuff, so magnificent, so elegant, 
so gaudy! Said I to myself, ‘He must have a dressing-gown 
of that stuff woven with spun glass which we saw at the In- 
dustrial Exposition.’ And I went for my opera-glasses and 
looked. But, good heavens! what did I see? Above the 
dressing-gown, where his head should have been, I saw a huge 
mass, like a big knee. No, I cannot tell you how curious I 
was !"’ 

‘©T can quite imagine it,’’ said Antonin. 

‘““No, you cannot imagine it,’’ said Madame Mollot, “for 
that knee ag 

‘¢Oh, I see it all,’’ said Olivier Vinet, shouting with laugh- 
ter. ‘‘The stranger was dressing too, and you saw his two 
knees 7 

“Not at all,’’ said Madame Mollot; ‘‘you are putting 
things into my mouth. The Stranger was standing up; he 
held a sponge over a huge basin, and your rude joke be on 
your own head, Monsieur Olivier. I should have known if I 
had seen what you suppose i 

“Oh! have known Madame, you are committing 
yourself!’’ said Antonin Goulard. 

‘‘Do let me speak!’’ said Madame Mollot. ‘‘It was his 
head! He was washing his head! he has not a hair.’’ 

‘*Rash man!’’ said Antonin Goulard. ‘He certainly 
cannot have come to look for a wife. To get married here a 
man must have some hair. Hair is in great request.”’ 

‘‘So I have my reasons for saying that he must be fifty. 














76 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


A man does not take to a wig before that age. For, in fact, 
the Unknown, when he had finished his toilet, opened his 
window, and I beheld him from afar, the owner of a splendid 
head of black hair. He stuck up his eyeglass when I went to 
the balcony. So, my dear Cécile, that gentleman will hardly 
be the hero of your romance.”’ 

‘“Why not? Men of fifty are not to be disdained when 
they are counts,’’ said Ernestine. 

‘Perhaps he had hair after all,’’ said Olivier Vinet mis- 
chievously, ‘‘and then he would be very eligible. The real 
question is whether it was his bald head that Madame Mollot 
saw, or his o 

‘Be quiet !’’ said Madame Mollot. 

Antonin Goulard went out to send Madame Marion’s ser- 
vant across to the Mulet with instructions for Julien. 

‘* Bless me, what does a husband’s age matter ?’’ said Made- 
moiselle Herbelot. 

‘‘So long as you get one,’’ Vinet put in. He was much 
feared for his cold and malignant sarcasm. 

‘© Yes,’’ replied the old maid, piqued by the remark, ‘‘I 
would rather have a husband of fifty, kind and indulgent to 
his wife, than a young man of between twenty and thirty 
who had no heart, and whose wit stung everybody—even his 
wife.’’ 

‘¢That,’’ said Olivier Vinet, ‘“‘is mere talk, since to prefer 
a man of fifty to a young man one must have the choice! ”’ 

**Oh!’’ said Madame Mollot, to stop this squabble between 
Mademoiselle Herbelot and young Vinet, who always went 
too far, ‘‘ when a woman has seen something of life, she knows 
that whether a husband is fifty or five-and-twenty, it comes to 
exactly the same thing if he is merely esteemed. The really 
important thing in marriage is the suitability of circumstances 
to be considered. If Mademoiselle Beauvisage wishes to live 
in Paris—and that would be my notion in her place—I would 
certainly not marry anybody in Arcis. If I had had sucha 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 77 


fortune as she will have, I might very well have given my 
hand to a count, a man who could have placed me in a good 
social position, and I should not have asked to see his pedi- 
gree.” 

‘Tt would have been enough for you to have seen him at 
his toilet,’’ said Vinet in a murmur to Madame Mollot. 

‘*But the King can make a count, madame,’’ observed 
Madame Marion, who had been standing for a minute or two 
looking at the circle of young people. 

«« But some young ladies like their counts ready-made,”’ said 
Vinet. 

‘* Now, Monsieur Antonin,”’ said Cécile, laughing at Olivier 
Vinet’s speech, ‘‘the ten minutes are over, and we do not yet 
know whether the Stranger is a count.”’ 

‘¢The Government must prove itself infallible,’’ said Vinet, 
turning to Antonin. 

‘¢T will keep my word,’’ replied the sub-prefect, seeing his 
servant’s face in the doorway. And he again left his seat. 

‘You are talking of the Stranger!’’ said Madame Marion. 
‘¢ Does any one know anything about him!”’ 

‘*No, madame,’’ said Achille Pigoult. ‘‘ But he, without 
knowing it, is like an athlete in a circus—the object of interest 
to two thousand pairs of eyes. I do know something,”’ added 
the little notary. 

‘¢Oh, tell us, Monsieur Achille!’’ Ernestine eagerly ex- 
claimed. 

‘‘ His servant’s name is Paradis.”’ 

‘¢ Paradis! ’’ echoed everybody. 

‘*Can any one be called Paradis?’’ asked Madame Herbe- 
lot, taking a seat by her sister-in-law. 

‘‘Tt goes far to prove that his master is an angel,’’ the 
notary went on, ‘‘ for when his servant follows him you see 
then that i 

«© ¢C’ est le chemin du Paradis.’** That is really very neat,’’ 


* This is the way of Paradise. 





78 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


said Madame Marion, who was anxious to secure Achille 
Pigoult in her nephew’s interest. 

‘*Monsieur,’’ Julien was saying to his master in the dining- 
room, ‘there is a coat-of-arms on the tilbury.”’ 

‘A coat-of-arms ?’”’ 

‘¢ And very queer they are. There is a coronet over them 
—nine points with balls ue 

‘¢ Then he is a count 

‘‘And a winged monster running like mad, just like a postil- 
lion that has lost something. And this is what is written on the 
ribbon,”’ said he, taking a scrap of paper out of his waistcoat 
pocket. ‘‘Mademoiselle Anicette, the Princesse de Cadignan’s 
maid, who had just come—in a carriage, of course—to bring 
a letter to the gentleman (and the carriage from Cinq-Cygne 
is waiting at the door), copied the words down for me.’’ 

“* Give it me.’’ 

The sub-prefect read : 

“*Quo me trahit fortuna,’ 

Though he was not a sufficiently accomplished herald to 
know what family bore this motto, Antonin supposed that the 
Cinq-Cygnes would hardly lend their chaise for the Princesse 
de Cadignan to send an express messenger to any one not of 
the highest nobility. 

**Oho! so you know the princess’ maid? You are a lucky 
beggar,’’ said Antonin to the man. ; 

Julien, a native of the place, after being in service at Gon- 
dreville for six months, had been engaged by Monsieur le Sub- 
prefect, who wished to have a stylish servant. 

‘* Well, monsieur, Anicette was my father’s god-daughter. 
And father, who felt kindly toward the poor child, as her 
father was dead, sent her to Paris to learn dressmaking; my 
mother could not bear the sight of her.’’ 

‘*Ts she pretty?” 

‘* Not amiss, Monsieur le Sous-préfet. More by token she 
had her little troubles in Paris. However, as she is clever, 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 79 


and can make dresses and understands hairdressing, the prin- 
cess took her on the recommendation of Monsieur Marin, 
head-valet to Monsieur le Duc de Maufrigneuse.’’ 

‘“‘And what did she say about Cing-Cygne? Is there a 
great deal of company ?”’ 

‘‘ Yes, sir, a great deal. The princess is there, and Mon- 
sieur d’Arthez, the Duc de Maufrigneuse and the duchess, and 
the young marquis. In short, the house is full. Monseigneur 
the Bishop of Troyes is expected this evening.’’ 

‘‘Monseigneur Troubert. Oh, I should like to know 
whether he makes any stay there.’’ 

“‘Anicette thought he would. She fancies he has come on 
account of the gentleman who is lodging at the Mulet. And 
more people are expected. The coachman said there was a 
great talk about the elections. Monsieur le Président Michu 
is to spend a few days there.”’ 

“¢ Just try to get that maid into the town on some pretext. 
Have you any fancy for her?”’ 

“¢ Tf she had anything of her own, there is no knowing. She 
is a smart girl.”’ 

‘* Well, tell her to come to see you at the sub-prefecture.’’ 

«Very well, sir; I will go at once.”’ 

‘*But do not mention me, or she will not come. Tell her 
you have heard of a good place——”’ 

‘< Qh, sir! I was in service at Gondreville ae 

‘‘And you do not know the history of that message sent 
from Cing-Cygne at such an hour. For it is half-past nine.’’ 

‘*It was something pressing, it would seem; for the comte, 
who had just come in from Gondreville sage 

‘‘ The Stranger had been to Gondreville! ”’ 

‘He dined there, Monsieur le Sous-préfet. And, you shall 
see, it is the greatest joke. The little groom is as drunk as an 
owl, saving your presence. They gave him so much cham- 
pagne wine in the servants’ hall that he cannot keep on his 
legs. They did it for a joke, no doubt,”’ 








80 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


“¢ Well—but the count ?’’ 

‘The count had gone to bed, but as soon as he read the 
note he got up. He is nowdressing. They were putting the . 
horse in, and he is going out in the tilbury to spend the rest 
of the evening at Cing-Cygne.”’ 

‘¢ Then he is a person of importance? ”’ 

‘*¢ Oh, yes, sir, no doubt ; for Gothard, the steward at Cinq- 
Cygne, came this morning to see Poupart, who is his brother- 
in-law, and told him to be sure to hold his tongue about the 
gentleman and his doings, and to serve him as if he were the 
King.”’ 

‘‘Then can Vinet be right ?’’ thought Goulard to himself. 
‘¢ Is there some plot brewing ?’’ 

“*It was the Duc Georges de Maufrigneuse who sent Mon- 
sieur Gothard to the Mulet ; and when Poupart came here to 
the meeting this morning, it was because this count made him 
come. If he were to tell Monsieur Poupart to set out for 
Paris to-night, he would go. Gothard told his brother-in-law 
to throw everything over for the gentleman and hoodwink all 
inquirers.”’ 

“If you can get hold of Anicette, be sure to let me know,’’ 
said Antonin. 

‘‘Well, I could go to see her at Clinq-Cygne, sir, if you 
were to send me out to your house at le Val-Preux.”’ 

‘‘ That is a good idea. You might get a lift on the chaise. 
But what about the little groom ?”’ 

‘He is a smart little chap, Monsieur le Sous-préfet! Just 
fancy, sir, screwed as he is, he has just ridden off on his mas- 
ter’s fine English horse, a thoroughbred that can cover seven 
leagues an hour, to carry a letter to Troyes, that it may reach 
Paris to-morrow! And the kid is no more than nine and a 
half years old! What will he have become by the time he is 
twenty ?”’ 

The sub-prefect listened mechanically to this last piece of 
domestic gossip. Julien chattered on for a few minutes, and 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 81 


Goulard heard him vaguely, thinking all the time of the 
great Unknown. 

‘‘ Wait a little,’ he said to the servant. 

‘¢What a puzzle!’’ thought he, as he slowly returned to 
the drawing-room. ‘A man who dines with the Comte de 
Gondreville, and who spends the night at Cinq-Cygne! 
Mysteries with a vengeance !’’ 

‘‘Well!’’ cried Mademoiselle Beauvisage’s little circle as 
he joined them. 

‘‘ Well, he is a count, and of the right sort, I will answer 
fort! 

‘Oh, how I should like to see him!’’ exclaimed Cécile. 

“‘ Mademoiselle,’’ said Antonin, with a mischievous smile 
at Madame Mollot, ‘‘ he is tall and well made, and does not 
wear a wig! His little tiger was as tipsy as a lord; they had 
filled him up with wine in the servants’ hall at Gondreville ; 
and the child, who is but nine, replied to Julien with all the 
dignity of an old valet when my man said something about 
his master’s wig. ‘A wig! My master! I would not stay 
with him. He dyes his hair, and that is bad enough.’ ”’ 

‘‘Your opera-glasses magnify a good deal,’’ said Achille 
Pigoult to Madame Mollot, who laughed. 

‘¢ Well, and this boy of our handsome count’s, tipsy as he 
is, has flown off to Troyes to carry a letter, and will be there 
in an hour and a quarter, in spite of the darkness.”’ 

‘¢T should like to see the tiger!’’ said Vinet. 

‘If he dined at Gondreville, we shall soon know all about 
this count,”’ said Cécile, ‘‘ for grandpapa is going there to- 
morrow morning.’’ 

‘‘ What will seem even more strange,’’ said Antonin Gou- 
lard, ‘‘ is that a special messenger, in the person of Mademoi- 
selle Anicette, the Princesse de Cadignan’s maid, has come 
from Cing-Cygne to the stranger, and he is going to spend 
the night there.’”’ 

‘‘ Bless me!’’ said Olivier Vinet ; ‘‘ but he is not a man 

6 


82 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


—he is ademon, a pheenix! He is the friend of both parties! 
He can ingurgitate sa 

‘¢ For shame, monsieur!’’ said Madame Mollot, ‘‘ you use 
words 2 

‘‘ Ingurgitate is good Latin, madame,’’ replied Vinet very 
gravely. ‘‘ He ingurgitates, I say, with King Louis-Philippe 
in the morning, and banquets at Holyrood in the evening 
with Charles X. There is but one reason that can allow a 
respectable Christian to frequent both camps and go alike to 
the Capulets’ and the Montagus’. Ah! I know what the 
man is! He is the manager of the railroad line between 
Paris and Lyons, or Paris and Dijon, or Montereau and 
Troyes 2 

“‘Of course!’’ cried Antonin. ‘‘ You have hit it. Only 
finance, interest, or speculation are equally welcome wherever 
they go.” 

‘Yes, and just now the greatest names, the greatest fami- 
lies, the old and the new nobility, are rushing full tilt into 
joint-stock concerns,’’ said Achille Pigoult. 

‘‘ Francs to the Frank !’’ said Olivier, without a smile. 

‘You can hardly be said to be the olive branch of peace,’’ 
said Madame Mollot. 

‘‘But is it not disgusting to see such names as Verneuil, 
Maufrigneuse, and d’Hérouville cheek by jowl with Tillet 
and Nucingen in the quotations on ’Change ?”” 

‘Our stranger is, you may depend, an infant railroad line,” 
said Vinet. 

‘* Well, all Arcis will be topsy-turvy by to-morrow,’’ said 
Achille Pigoult. ‘I will call on the gentleman to get the 
notary’s work in the concern. There will be two thousand 
deeds to draw up.”’ 

‘‘And so our romance is a locomotive!’’ said Ernestine 
sadly to Cécile. 

‘«Nay, a count and a railway company in one is doubly 
conjugal,’’ said Achille. ‘‘ But—is he a bachelor ?”’ 











THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 83 


‘‘T will find out to-morrow from grandpapa!’’ cried Cécile 
with affected enthusiasm. 

‘¢ A pretty joke! ’’ exclaimed Madame Marion with a forced 
laugh. ‘Why, Cécile, child, is your brain running on the 
Unknown ?”’ 

‘‘A husband is always the Unknown,’’ remarked Olivier 
Vinet hastily, with a glance at Mademoiselle Beauvisage, 
which she perfectly understood. 

‘*And why not?’’ said she. <‘‘ There is nothing compro- 
mising in that. Beside, if these gentlemen are right, he is 
either a great lord or a great speculator. My word! I can 
do with either. I like Paris! I want a carriage, and a fine 
house, and a box at the opera, ef cetera.’’ 

‘*To be sure,’’ said Vinet. ‘‘Why refuse yourself any- 
thing in a day-dream? Now, if I had the honor to be your 
brother, you should marry the young Marquis de Cinq-Cygne, 
who is, it strikes me, the young fellow to make the money 
fly, and to laugh at his mother’s objections to the actors in 
the judicial drama in which our presiding judge’s father came 
to such a sad end.”’ 

‘You would find it easier to become prime minister !’’ 
said Madame Marion. ‘‘ There can never be any alliance 
between Grévin’s grand-daughter and the Cinq-Cygnes.”’ 

‘¢Romeo was within an ace of marrying Juliet,’’ said 
Achille Pigoult ; ‘‘and Mademoiselle Cécile is handsomer 
and a 

‘‘Oh, if you quote opera!’’ said Herbelot feebly, as he 
rose from the whist-table. 

“*My colleague,’’ said Achille Pigoult, ‘‘is evidently not 
strong in medizeval history.”’ 

“Come along, Malvina,’’ said the sturdy notary, without 
answering his young brother of the law. 

‘Tell me, Monsieur Antonin,’’ said Cécile, ‘‘ you spoke 
of Anicette, the Princesse de Cadignan’s maid—do you know 
heme 





84 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘“No; but Julien does. She is his father’s godchild, and 
they are old friends.”’ 

‘¢Oh, do try, through Julien, to get her for us; mamma 
will give any wages nN 

‘‘ Mademoiselle, to hear is to obey, as they say to the des- 
pots in Asia,’’ replied the sub-prefect. ‘‘To serve you, see 
how prompt I will be.’’ 

He went off to desire Julien to get a lift in the chaise re- 
turning to Cinq-Cygne, and win over Anicette at any cost. 

At this moment Simon Giguet, who had been put through 
his paces by all the influential men of Arcis, and who believed 
himself secure of his election, joined the circle round Cécile 
and Mademoiselle Mollot. 

It was getting late; ten had struck. 

Having consumed an enormous quantity of cakes, of orgeat, 
punch, lemonade, and various fruit syrups, all who had come 
that evening to Madame Marion’s on purely political grounds, 
and were unaccustomed to tread these boards—to them quite 
aristocratic—disappeared promptly, all the more so because 
they never sat up so late. The party would now be more in- 
timate in its tone; Simon Giguet hoped to be able to exchange 
a few words with Cécile, and looked at her with a conquering 
air. This greatly offended Cécile. 

‘* My dear fellow,’’ said Antonin to Simon, as he saw the 
aureola of triumph on his friend’s brow, ‘‘ you have joined 
us ata moment when all the men of Arcis are in the wrong 
box es 

‘* Quite wrong,’’ said Ernestine, nudged by Cécile. ‘‘ We 
are quite crazy about the Unknown. Cécile and I are quar- 
reling for him,” 

‘‘To begin with, he is no longer unknown,”’ said Cécile. 
‘Heé-is:a count,”” 

‘Some adventurer! ’’ said Simon Giguet scornfully. 

‘‘Would you say that to his face,’’ retorted Cécile, much 
nettled. ‘‘A man who has just had a message by one of the . 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 85 


Princesse de Cadignan’s servants, who dined to-day at Gon- 
dreville, and is gone to spend this very evening with the 
Marquise de Cing-Cygne?”’ 

She spoke so eagerly and sharply that Simon was put out of 
countenance. 

** Indeed, mademoiselle,’’ said Oliver Vinet, “if we all 
said to people’s faces what we say behind each other’s backs, 
society would be impossible. The pleasure of society, especi- 
ally in the country, consists in speaking ill of others.’’ 

‘* Monsieur Simon is jealous of your enthusiasm about the 
strange count,’’ remarked Ernestine. 

“‘It seems to me,”’’ said Cécile, ‘‘ that Monsieur Simon has 
no right to be jealous of any fancy of mine! ”’ 

And saying this in a tone to annihilate Simon, Cécile rose. 
Everybody made way for her, and she joined her mother, who 
was settling her gambling account. 

«My dear girl,’’ said Madame Marion, close at her heeis, 
‘* it seems to me that you are very hard on my poor Simon.”’ 

‘« Why, what has the dear little puss been doing ?’’ asked 
her mother. 

‘¢Mamma, Monsieur Simon gave my Unknown a slap in 
the face by calling him an adventurer.”’ 

Simon had followed his aunt, and was now on the battle- 
field by the whist-table. Thus the four persons, whose inter- 
ests were so serious, were collected in the middle of the room; 
Cécile and her mother on one side of the table, Madame 
Marion and her nephew on the other. 

‘** Really, madame,’’ said Simon Giguet, ‘‘ you must con- 
fess that a young lady must be very anxious to find me in the 
wrong, to be vexed by my saying that a man of whom all 
Arcis is talking, and who is living at the Mulet 4 

‘* Do you suppose he is competing with you ?’’ said Madame 
Beauvisage jestingly. 

‘«T should certainly feel it a deep grievance if he should be 
the cause of any misunderstanding between Mademoiselle 





86 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Cécile and me,’’ said the candidate, with a beseeching look at 
the girl. 

‘‘But you pronounced sentence, monsieur, in a cutting 
tone, which proved you to be despotic—and you are right ; 
if you hope ever to be minister, you must cut a good deal !”’ 

Madame Beauvisage took Madame Marion by the arm and 
led her toasofa. Cécile, left alone, went to join the circle, 
that she might not hear any reply that Simon might make ; 
and he remained by the table, looking foolish enough, me- 
chanically playing tricks with the bone fish. 

‘© There are as good fish in the sea!’’ said Oliver Vinet, 
who had observed the little scene; and Cécile, overhearing 
the remark, though it was spoken in a low tone, could not 
help laughing. 

‘My dear friend,’’ said Madame Marion to Madame 
Beauvisage, ‘‘ nothing now, you see, can hinder my nephew’s 
election.’’ 

‘‘T congratulate you—and the Chamber,’’ said Madame 
Séverine. 

‘¢And my nephew will make his mark, my dear. I will 
tell you why: his own fortune, and what his father will leave 
him, with mine, will bring him in about thirty thousand francs 
a year. When aman is a member of parliament and has 
such a fortune, there is nothing he may not aspire to.’’ 

‘‘ Madame, he will command our admiration, and our best 
wishes will be with him throughout his political career, 
but ne 

‘I ask for no reply,’’ exclaimed Madame Marion, eagerly 
interrupting her friend. ‘I only ask you to think it over. 
Do our young people like each other? Can we arrange the 
match? We shall live in Paris whenever the Chambers are 
sitting, and who knows but the Deputy for Arcis may be 
settled there by getting some good place in office? See how 
Monsieur Vinet of Provins has got on! Mademoiselle de 
Chargebceuf was thought very foolish to marry him; and 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 87 


before long she will be the wife of the keeper of the seals, 
and Monsieur Vinet may have a peerage if he likes.’’ 

‘‘ Madame, it does not rest with me to settle my daughter’s 
marriage. In the first place, her father and I leave her abso- 
lutely free to choose for herself. If she wanted to marry the 
Unknown, if he were a suitable match, we should give our 
consent. Then Cécile depends entirely on her grandfather, 
who, as a wedding-gift, will settle on her a house in Paris, 
the Hétel Beauséant, which he bought for us ten years ago, 
and which at the present day is worth eight hundred thousand 
francs. It is one of the finest mansions in the Faubourg 
Germain. He has alsoa sum of two hundred thousand francs 
put by for furnishing it. Nowa grandfather who behaves in 
that way, and who will persuade my mother-in-law on her 
part to do something for her grandchild, has some right to 
an opinion on the question of a suitable match < 

‘¢ Certainly !’’ said Madame Marion, amazed at this revela- 
tion, which would add to the difficulties of her nephew’s 
marriage with Cécile. 

‘¢ And even if Cécile had no expectations from her grand- 
father,’’ Madame Beauvisage went on, ‘‘she would not marry 
without consulting him. The young man my father had 
chosen is just dead; I do not know what his present inten- 
tions may be. If you have any proposals to make, go and 
see my father.’’ 

‘¢ Very well, I will,’’ said Madame Marion. 

Madame Beauvisage signaled to Cécile, and they left. 

On the following afternoon Antonin and Frédéric Marest 
were walking, as was their after-dinner custom, with Monsieur 
Martener and Olivier under the limes of the Avenue des 
Soupirs, smoking their cigars. 

They had taken but a few turns when they were joined by 
Simon Giguet, who said to the sub-prefect with an air of 
mystery— 

“*You will surely stick by an old comrade, who will make 





88 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


it his business to get you the Legion of Honor and a pre- 
Jecture !"’ 

‘Are you beginning your political career already?’’ said 
Antonin, laughing. ‘‘So you are trying to bribe me—you 
who are such a puritan? ”’ 

‘* Will you support me?”’ 

‘«« My dear fellow, you know that Bar-sur-Aube registers its 
votes here? Who can guarantee a majority under such cir- 
cumstances? My colleague at Bar-sur-Aube would show me 
up if I did not do as much as he to support the Government ; 
and your promises are conditional, while my overthrow would 
be a certainty.”’ 

«But I have no opponent.” 

‘“So you think,’’ said Antonin. ‘‘ But one will turn up, 
there is no doubt of that.’’ 

‘¢ And my aunt, who knows that I am on tenter-hooks, has 
not come back!’’ cried Giguet. ‘‘These three hours may 
count for three years! ”’ 

And the great secret came out. He confided to his friend 
that Madame Marion was gone to propose on his behalf to old 
Grévin for Cécile. | 

The friends had walked on as far as the Brienne road, just 
opposite the Mulet. While Simon stared down the hill, up 
which his aunt would return from the bridge, the sub-prefect 
was studying the runlets worn in the ground by the rain. 
Arcis is not paved with either flagstones or cobbles, for the 
plains of Champagne afford no building materials, much less 
any pebbles large enough to make a road. 

At this particular moment the Stranger was returning from 
the Castle of Cinq-Cygne, where he had evidently spent the 
night. Goulard was determined to clear up for himself the 
mystery in which the Stranger chose to wrap himself—being 
also wrapped, so far as his outer man was concerned, in a light 
overcoat or paletot of coarse frieze, such as was then the fashion. 
A cloak thrown over him hid his figure from view, and an 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 89 


enormous comforter of red cashmere covered his face up to 
the eyes. His hat, knowingly set on one side, was, neverthe- 
less, not extravagant. Never was a mystery so mysteriously 
smothered and concealed. 

‘‘Clear the way!’’ cried the tiger, riding in front of the 
tilbury. ‘‘Open the gate, Daddy Poupart!’’ he piped in his 
shrill little voice. 

The three stablemen ran out, and the tilbury went in with- 
out any one having seen the driver’s face. 

The sub-prefect followed it, however, to the door of the inn. 

‘¢ Madame Poupari,’’ said Antonin, ‘ will you tell Monsieur 
—Monsieur ?”’ 

**T do not know his name,’’ said Gothard’s sister. 

‘*Then you are to blame. The police regulations are 
definite, and Monsieur Groslier does not see a joke—like all 
police authorities when they have nothing to do.’’ 

“« Innkeepers are never in the wrong at election time,’’ said 
the tiger, getting off his horse. 

**T will tell that to Vinet,’’ thought the official. ‘Go 
and ask your master to see me, the sub-prefect of Arcis.”’ 

Antonin went back to his three friends, who had stopped 
outside on seeing the sub-prefect in conversation with the 
tiger, already famous in Arcis for his name and his ready wit. 

‘Monsieur begs that Monsieur le Sous-préfet will walk up. 
He will be delighted to see him,’’ Paradis came out in a few 
minutes to say this to Antonin. 

*¢T say, little man,’’ said Olivier, ‘“how much a year does 
your master give a youth of your spirit and inches? ’”’ 

‘¢Give, monsieur? What do you take me for? Monsieur 
le Comte allows himself to be done—and I am satisfied.’’ 

‘« That boy is at a good school,’’ said Frédéric Marest. 

‘The High School, Monsieur le Procureur du Roi,’’ re- 
plied Paradis, and the five men stared at his cool impudence. 

‘¢What a Figaro!’’ exclaimed Vinet. 

“Tt does not do to sing sae said the boy. ‘‘ My master 


90 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCS. 


calls me a little Robert Macaire. Since we have found out 
how to invest in the Funds, we are Figaro—with the savings 
bank into the bargain.’’ 

“‘Why, what do you earn?” 

‘There are times when I make a thousand crowns on a 
race—and without selling my master, monsieur.”’ 

‘*Sublime infant! He knows the turf- ms 

‘And all the gentlemen riders!’’ said the boy, putting out 
his tongue at Vinet. 

‘¢ Paradise Road goes a long way!’’ said Frédéric Marest. 

Antonin Goulard, meanwhile, shown up by the innkeeper, 
found the Unknown in the room he used for a drawing-room, 
and himself under inspection through a most impertinent eye- 
glass. 

‘‘Monsieur,”’ said Antonin Goulard in a rather lofty tone, 
‘‘T have just heard from the innkeeper’s wife that you refuse 
to conform to the police regulations ; and as I have no doubt 
that you are a man of some consequence, I have come myself 
that——’’ 

‘‘Your name is Goulard ?’’ said the Stranger in a head- 
voice. 

‘*T am sub-prefect, monsieur,’’ said Antonin Goulard. 

‘* Your father, I think, was attached to the Simeuses ?”’ 

‘‘And I am attached to the Government. Times have 
changed.’’ 

‘“You have a servant named Julien who wants to bribe 
away the Princesse de Cadignan’s waiting-maid?’”’ 

‘‘Monsieur, I allow no one to speak to me in such a way ; 
you misunderstand my character. és 

‘* But you wish to understand mine,’’ interrupted the other. 
“‘You may write it in the inn-register: ‘An impertinent per- 
son from Paris, age doubtful, traveling for his pleasure.’ It 
would be an innovation highly appreciated in France to imi- 
tate the English method of allowing people to come and go as 
they please without annoying them and asking them for their 








’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 91 


papers at every turn. I have no passport: what will you do 
to me?”’ 

‘¢ The public prosecutor is out there under the limes——’ 
said the sub-prefect. 

‘Monsieur Marest? Wish him from me a very good- 
morning.”’ 

‘¢ But who are you?”’ 

‘‘ Whatever you wish me to be, my dear Monsieur Goulard,”’ 
said the Stranger, ‘‘since it is you who must decide how I 
should appear before the good folk of this district. Give me 
some advice as to my demeanor. Here—read this.”’ 

And the visitor held out a note reading as follows: 


? 


‘* (Private.) PREFECTURE OF THE AUBE. 


‘* MONSIEUR LE SOUS-PREFET:—Be good enough to take 
steps with the bearer as to the election in Arcis, and conform 
to his requirements in every particular. I request you to be 
absolutely secret, and to treat him with the respect due to his 
rank.”’ 


The note was written and signed by the prefect of the de- 
partment. 

‘You have been talking prose without knowing it,’’ said 
the Stranger, as he took the letter back. 

Antonin Goulard, already impressed by the man’s gentle- 
manly appearance and manner, spoke respectfully. 

‘¢ How is that, monsieur?’’ said he. 

‘‘By trying to bribe Anicette. She came to tell me of 
Julien’s offers—you may call him Julian the Apostate, for 
little Paradis, my tiger, routed him completely, and he ended 
by confessing that you were anxious to place Anicette in the 
service of the richest family in Arcis. Now, as the richest 
family in Arcis are the Beauvisages, I presume that it is Made- 
moiselle Cécile who is anxious to secure such a treasure.”’ 

‘*Yes, monsieur.’’ | 


92 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘© Very well, Mademoiselle Anicette can go to the Beau- 
visages at once.”’ 

He whistled. Paradis appeared so promptly that his master 
said— 

‘* You were listening.”’ 

‘¢T cannot help myself, Monsieur le Comte, the walls are 
made of paper. If you like, Monsieur le Comte, I can go to 
an upstairs room.”’ 

<©No, you may listen ; it is your privilege. It is my business 
to speak low when I do not want you to hear. Now, go back 
to Cing-Cygne, and give this twenty-franc piece to Anicette 
from me. Julien will be supposed to have bribed her on your 
account,’’ he added, turning to Goulard. ‘‘ This gold-piece 
means that she is to do as Julien tells her. Anicette may pos- 
sibly be of use to our candidate.’’ 

““Anicetté! ”” 

“‘You see, Monsieur le Sous-préfet, I have made use of 
waiting-maids for two-and-thirty years. I had my first adven- 
ture at the age of thirteen, exactly like the Regent, the present 
King’s great-great-grandfather. Now, do you know the amount 
of this demoiselle Beauvisage’s fortune ?’’ 

“‘No one can help knowing it, monsieur ; for last evening, 
at Madame Marion’s, Madame Séverine said that Monsieur 
Grévin, Cécile’s grandfather, would give her the Hétel 
Beauséant and two hundred thousand francs on her wedding- 
day.”’ 

The Stranger’s eyes betrayed no surprise; he seemed to 
think it a very moderate fortune. 

**Do you know Arcis well? ’’ he asked Goulard. 

‘*T am sub-prefect of the town, and I was born here.’’ 

** Well, then, how can I balk curiosity ?’”’ 

‘« By satisfying it, Monsieur le Comte. Use your Christian 
name ; enter that and your title on the register.’’ 

‘* Very good: Comte Maxime.’’ 

“And if you would call yourself the manager of a railway 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 93 


company, Arcis would be content ; you could keep it quiet for 
a fortnight by flying that flag.’’ 

‘No, I prefer water-works ; it is lesscommon. I have come 
to improve the waste-lands of the province. That, my dear 
Monsieur Goulard, will be an excuse for inviting myself to 
dine at your house to meet the Beauvisages—to-morrow. I 
particularly wish to see and study them.’’ 

‘‘T shall only be too happy,’’ said the official. ‘‘ But I 
must ask your indulgence for the poverty of my establish- 
ment i 

‘If I succeed in directing the election at Arcis in accord- 
ance with the wishes of those who have sent me here, you, my 
good friend, will be madea prefect. Read these——’’ and he 
held out two other letters. 

‘‘Very good, Monsieur le Comte,’’ said Goulard, as he re- 
turned them. 

‘¢ Make out a list of all the votes at the disposal of the Gov- 
ernment. Above all, we must not appear to have any mutual 
understanding. Iam merely a speculator, and do not care a 
fig about the election.’’ 

‘TJ will send the police superintendent to compel you to 
write your name on Poupart’s register.”’ 

‘* Yes, that is very good. Good-morning, monsieur. What 
a land we live in! ’’ he went on inaloud tone. ‘It is im- 
possible to stir a step without having the whole posse at your 
heels—even the sub-prefect.”’ 

‘< You will have to settle that with the head of the police,”’ 
replied Antonin emphatically. 

And twenty minutes later there was a great talk at Madame 
Moliot’s of high words between the sub-prefect and the 
Stranger. 

‘¢ Well, and what wood is the log made of that has dropped 
into our pool?’’ asked Olivier Vinet of Goulard, as he came 
away from the inn. 

‘* A certain Comte Maxime, come to study the geology of 





94 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


the district in the hope of finding mineral sources,’’ said 
Goulard indifferently. 

‘* Re-sources you should say,’’ replied Olivier. 

‘Does he fancy he can raise any capital in these parts ?’’ 
asked Monsieur Martener. 

‘©T doubt our royalist people seeing anything in that form 
of mining,’’ said Vinet, smiling. 

‘‘What do you expect, judging from Madame Marion’s 
looks and movements ?’’ said Antonin, changing the con- 
versation by pointing out Simon and his aunt in eager con- 
ference. 

Simon had gone forward to meet Madame Marion, and 
stood talking in the square. 

‘‘Well, if he were accepted, a word would be enough to 
tell him so, I should think,’’ observed Vinet. 

‘‘Well?’’ asked the two men at once as Simon came up 
the lime-walk. 

‘*My aunt has hopes. Madame Beauvisage and old Grévin, 
who was starting for Gondreville, were not surprised at our 
proposal; our respective fortunes were discussed. Cécile is 
absolutely free to make her own choice. Finally, Madame 
Beauvisage said that for her part she saw no objection to a 
connection which did her honor, though, at the same time, 
she must make her consent depend on my election, and pos- 
sibly on my appearing in the Chamber; and old Grévin said 
he must consult the Comte de Gondreville, as he never came 
to any important decision without consulting him and taking 
his advice.”’ 

*“So you will not marry Cécile, old boy,’’ said Goulard 
bluntly. 

‘And why not ?”’ said Giguet ironically. 

‘‘My dear fellow, Madame Beauvisage and her daughter 
spend four evenings a week in your aunt’s drawing-room ; 
Madame Marion is the most thorough fine lady in Arcis. 
Though she is twenty years the elder, she is the object of 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 95 


Madame Beauvisage’s envy; and do you suppose they could 
refuse you point-blank without some little civility ?’’ 

‘¢ Neither Yes nor No is NO,’’ Vinet went on, ‘‘ in view of 
the extreme intimacy of your two families. If Madame Beau- 
visage is the woman of fortune, Madame Marion is the most 
looked up to; for, with the exception of the presiding judge’s 
wife—who sees no one—she is the only woman who can en- 
tertain at all; she is the queen of Arcis. Madame Beauvisage 
wishes to refuse politely—that is all.”’ 

‘* It seems to me that old Grévin was making a fool of your 
aunt, my dear boy,’’ said Frédéric Marest. ‘‘ Yesterday you 
attacked the Comte de Gondreville; you hurt him, you of- 
fended him deeply—for Achille Pigoult defended him bravely 
—and now he is to be consulted as to your marrying Cécile !’’ 

‘¢ No one can be craftier than old Grévin,’’ said Vinet. 

‘Madame Beauvisage is ambitious,’’ Goulard went on, 
‘and knows that her daughter will have two millions of 
francs. She means to be the mother-in-law of a minister or 
of an ambassador, so as to lord it in Paris.’’ 

‘¢ Well, and why not that ?’’ said Simon Giguet. 

‘‘T wish you may get it!’’ replied Goulard, looking at 
Vinet, and they laughed as they went on their way. ‘‘ He 
will not even be elected!’’ he went on to Olivier. ‘‘ The 
Government has schemes of its own. You will find a letter 
at home from your father, desiring you to secure every one in 
your connection who ought to vote for their masters. Your 
promotion depends upon it, and you are to keep your own 
counsel.’’ 

‘¢ And who is the man for whom they are to vote—ushers, 
attorneys, justice of the peace, and notaries?’’ asked Vinet. 

‘¢ The man I will tell you to vote for.”’ 

‘‘ But how do you know that my father has written to me, 
and what he has written ?’’ 

‘‘From the Unknown.”’ 

‘‘ The man of mines? ”’ 


96 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘My dear Vinet, we are not to know him; we must treat 
him as a stranger. He saw your father as he came through 
Provins. Just now this individual showed me a letter from 
the chief prefect instructing me to act in the matter of the 
elections as I shall be directed by this Comte Maxime. I 
should not get off without having to fight a battle, that I. 
knew! Let us dine together and plan our batteries: You 
want to be public prosecutor at Mantes, and I to be prefect, 
and we must not appear to meddle in the elections, for we are 
between the hammer and anvil. Simon is the candidate put 
forward by the party who want to upset the present ministry, 
and who may succeed. But for clear-sighted men like us 
there is but one thing to do.”’ 

‘‘ And that is?’’ 

‘“‘To obey those who make and unmake ministries. The 
letter that was shown to me was from a man in the secrets of 
the immutable idea.’’ 


Before going any further, it will be necessary to explain 
who this ‘‘ miner’’ was, and what he hoped to extract out of 
the province of Champagne. 

About two months before Simon Giguet’s day of triumph 
as a candidate, at eleven o’clock one evening, just as tea was 
being served in the Marquise d’Espard’s drawing-room in the 
Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré, the Chevalier d’Espard, her 
brother-in-law, as he set his cup down on the chimney-shelf 
and looked at the circle round the fire, observed: 

‘‘Maxime was very much out of spirits this evening—did 
not you think so?’’ 

‘‘Well,’’ replied Rastignac, ‘‘ his depression is very natural. 
He is eight-and-forty ; at that age a man does not make friends ; 
and when we buried de Marsay, Maxime lost the only one who 
could thoroughly understand him, who could be of use to him, 
or make use of him.”’ 

‘‘And he probably has some pressing debts. Could not 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 97 


you put him in the way of paying them off?’’ said the mar- 
quise to Rastignac. 

Rastignac at this juncture was in office for the second time ; 
he had just been created count, almost in spite of himself ; 
his father-in-law, the Baron de Nucingen, had been made a 
peer of France; his brother was a bishop; the Comte de la 
‘Roche-Hugon, his brother-in-law, was ambassador; and he 
was supposed to be an indispensable element in the composi- 
tion of any future ministry. 

‘* You always forget, my dear marquise,’’ replied Rastignac, 
‘¢that our Government changes its silver for nothing but 
gold; it takes no account of men.” 

‘‘Ts Maxime a man to blow his brains out ?’’ asked du 
Tillet the banker. 

‘*You only wish he were! Then we should be quits,’’ re- 
plied Maxime de Trailles, who was supposed by all to have 
left the house. 

And the count rose like an apparition from the depths of a 
low chair behind that of the Chevalier d’Espard. 

Everybody laughed. 

**Will you have a cup of tea?’’ asked young Madame de 
Rastignac, whom the marquise had begged to do the honors 
of the tea-table. 

‘With pleasure,’’ said the count, coming to stand in front 
of the fire. 

This man, the prince of the rakes of Paris, had, till now, 
maintained the position of superiority assumed by dandies— 
in those days known in Paris as gants saunes (lemon-kids), 
and since then as “‘lions.’’ It is needless to tell the story of his 
youth, full of disreputable adventures and terrible dramas, in 
which he had always managed to observe the proprieties. To 
this man women were but means to an end; he had no belief 
in their sufferings or their enjoyment; like the deceased de 
Marsay, he regarded them as naughty children. 


After running through his own fortune, he had devoured 
7 


98 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


that of a famous courtesan known as the Handsome Dutch- 
woman, the mother of the no less famous Esther Gobseck. 
Then he brought trouble on Madame de Restaud, Madame 
Delphine de Nucingen’s sister; the young countess, Rastig- 
nac’s wife, was Madame de Nucingen’s daughter. 

Paris society is full of inconceivable anomalies. The Ba- 
ronne de Nucingen was at this moment in Madame d’Espard’s 
drawing-room, face to face with the author of all her sister’s 
misery—an assassin who had only murdered a woman’s happi- 
ness. That, no doubt, was why he was there. 

Madame de Nucingen had dined with the marquise, and 
her daughter with her. Augusta de Nucingen had been 
married for about a year to the Comte de Rastignac, who had 
started on his political career by holding the post of under- 
secretary of State in the ministry formed by the famous de 
Marsay, the only great statesman brought to the front by the 
Revolution of July. Count Maxime de Trailles alone knew 
how much disaster he had occasioned; but he had always 
sheltered himself from blame by obeying the code of manly 
honor. Though he had squandered more money in his life 
than the felons in the four penal establishments of France 
had stolen in the same time, justice treated him with respect. 
He had never failed in any question of technical honor; he 
paid his gambling debts with scrupulous punctuality. He was 
a capital player, and the partner of the greatest personages 
and ambassadors. He dined with all the members of the 
corps diplomatic. He would fight; he had killed two or 
three men in his time—nay, he had murdered them, for his 
skill and coolness were matchless. 

There was not a young man in Paris to compare with him 
in dress, in grace of manner, in pleasant wit, in ease and 
readiness, in what used to be called the ‘‘ grand air.’’ As 
page to the Emperor, trained from the age of twelve in horse 
exercise of every kind, he was a noted rider. He had always 
five horses in his stables, he kept racers, he set the fashion. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 99 


Finally, no man was more successful than he in giving a 
supper to younger men; he would drink with the stoutest, 
and come out fresh and cool, ready to begin again, as if 
orgies were his element. 

Maxime, one of the men whom everybody despises, but 
who control that contempt by the insolence of audacity and 
the fear they inspire, never deceived himself as to his posi- 
tion. This was where his strength lay. Strong men can 
always criticise themselves. 

At the time of the Restoration he had turned his employ- 
ment as page to the Emperor to good account. He attrib- 
uted his supposed Bonapartist proclivities to the repulses he 
had met with from a succession of ministers when he had 
wanted to serve under the Bourbons; for, in fact, notwith- 

standing his connections, his good birth, and his dangerous 
~ cleverness, he had never succeeded in getting an appointment. 
Then he had joined the underground conspiracy, which ended 
in the fall of the elder branch of the Bourbons. When the 
younger branch, at the heels of the Paris populace, had 
trampled down the senior branch and established itself on the 
throne, Maxime made the most of his attachment to Napo- 
leon, for whom he cared no more than for the object of his 
first flirtation. He then did good service, for which it was 
difficult to make a return, as he wanted to be repaid too often 
by people who knew how to keep accounts. At the first re- 
fusal Maxime assumed a hostile attitude, threatening to reveal 
certain not very creditable details; for a dynasty first set up 
has, like infants, dirty linen to hide. 

De Marsay, in the course of his career, made up for the 
blunders of those who had undervalued the usefulness of this 
person; he employed him on such secret errands as need a 
conscience hardened by the hammer of necessity; an address 
which is equal to any mode of action, impudence, and, above 
all, the coolness, presence of mind, and swift apprehension of 
affairs, which are combined to make a dravo of scheming and 


100 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


superior policy. Such an instrument is at once rare and in- 
dispensable. De Marsay intentionally secured to Maxime de 
Trailles a firm footing in the highest social circles ; he repre- 
sented him as being a man matured by passion, taught by ex- 
perience, knowing men and things, to whom traveling anda 
faculty of observation had given great knowledge of European 
interests, of foreign cabinets, and of the connections of all 
the great continental families. De Marsay impressed on 
Maxime the necessity for doing himself credit ; he explained 
to him that discretion was not so much a virtue as a good 
speculation; he proved to him that power never evades the 
touch of a strong and trustworthy tool, at the same time 
elegant and polished. 

“In political life you can only squeeze a man once,’ 
he, blaming him for having uttered a threat. 

And Maxime was the man to understand all the significance 
of the axiom. 

At de Marsay’s death, Comte Maxime de Trailles fell back 
into his old life. He went every year to gamble at watering- 
places, and returned to spend the winter in Paris; but, al- 
though he received from time to time some considerable sums 
dug out of the depths of very tight-locked chests, this sort of 
half-pay due to a man of spirit, who might at any moment be 
made use of, and who was in the confidence of many mysteries 
of antagonistic diplomatists, was insufficient for the extrava- 
gant splendor of a life like that of this king of the dandies, 
the tyrant of four or five Paris clubs. Hence the count had 
many hours of uneasiness over the financial question. 

Having no estates or investments, he had never been able 
to strengthen his position by being elected deputy; and hav- 
ing no ostensible duties, it was out of his power to hold the 
knife to a great man’s throat, and get himself made a peer of 
France. And time was gaining on him; dissipation of all 
kinds had damaged his health and person. In spite of a 
handsome appearance, he knew it; he did not deceive him- 


” said 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 101 


self. He determined to settle, to marry. He was too clever 
aman to overestimate the true value of his position ; it was, 
he knew, an illusion. So he could not find a wife in the 
highest Paris society, nor in the middle class. He required a 
vast amount of spite, with apparent sincerity and real service 
done, to make himself acceptable; for every one hoped for 
his fall, and a vein of ill-luck might be his ruin. 

If once he should find himself in prison, at Clichy or 
abroad, as a result of some bill of exchange that he failed 
to negotiate, he would drop into the gulf where so many 
political dead men are to be seen who do not comfort each 
other. At this very hour he was dreading the falling stones 
from some portions of the awful vault which debts build up 
over many a Parisian head. He had allowed his anxiety to 
be seen in his face; he had refused to play here at Madame 
d’Espard’s; he had been absent-minded while talking to 
ladies; and he had ended by sitting mute and absorbed in 
the armchair from which he now rose like Banquo’s ghost. 

Comte Maxime de Trailles, standing in the middle of the 
fire-front, under the cross-lights of two large candelabra, found 
himself the centre of direct or indirect observation. The few 
words that had been said required him to assume an attitude 
of defiance; and he stood there like a man of spirit, but with- 
out arrogance, determined to show himself superior to sus- 
picion. A painter could not have had a more favorable 
moment for sketching this really remarkable man. 

For must not a man have extraordinary gifts to play such a 
' part as his, to have fascinated women for thirty years, to have 
commanded himself to use his talents only in a secret sphere 
—exciting a people to rebel, discovering the mysteries of the 
astutest politicians, and triumphing only in ladies’ boudoirs 
or men’s private rooms? Is there not something grand in 
being able to rise to the highest schemes of political life, and 
then calmly drop back into the insignificance of a frivolous 
existence? A man must be of iron who can live through the 


102 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


alternations of the gaming table and the sudden journeys of a 
political agent, who can keep up the war-footing of elegance 
and fashion and the expenses of necessary civilities to the fair 
sex, whose memory is a perfect library of craft and falsehood, 
who can hide so many and such different ideas, and so many 
tricks of craft, under such impenetrable suavity of ,manner. 
If the breeze of favor had blown steadily on those overspread 
sails, if the course of events had served Maxime better, he 
might have been a Mazarin, a Maréchal de Richelieu, a 
Potemkin*—or perhaps, more exactly, a Lauzun, minus Pig- 
nerol. 

The count, a fairly tall man, and not inclining to be fat, 
had a certain amount of stomach; but he suppressed it majes- 
tically—to use Brillat-Savarin’s words. His clothes, too, were 
so well made that his figure preserved a youthful aspect, and 
there was something light and easy in his movements, which 
was due, no doubt, to constant exercise, to the habit of fencing, 
riding, and shooting. Maxime had, in fact, all the physical 
grace and distinction of an aristocrat, enhanced by his ad- 
mirable ‘‘ get-up.”” His face was long, of the Bourbon type, 
framed in whiskers and a beard under his chin, carefully cut 
and curled, and as black as jet. This hue, matching that of 
his thick hair, was preserved by the use of an Indian cosmetic, 
very expensive, and known only in Persia, of which Maxime 
kept the secret. He thus cheated the keenest eye as to the 
white hairs which had long since streaked the natural black. 
The peculiarity of this dye, used by the Persians for thin 
beards, is that it does not make the features look hard; it can 
be softened by an admixture of indigo, and harmonizes with 
the color of the skin. This, no doubt, was the operation seen 
by Madame Mollot; but it remains to this day a standing joke 
at Arcis to wonder now and again, at the evening meetings, 
‘what Madame Mollot did see.’’ 

Maxime had a fine forehead, blue eyes, a Grecian nose, a 

* A noted Russian Minister of State; born 1739, died 1791. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 103 


pleasant mouth, and well-shaped chin; but all round his eyes 
were a myriad wrinkles, as fine as if they had been marked 
with a razor—invisible, in fact, at a little distance. There 
were similar lines on his temples, and all his face was a good 
deal wrinkled. His eyes, like those of gamblers who have sat 
up night after night, were covered with a sort of glaze; but 
their look, if dimmed, was only the more terrible—nay, terri- 
fying. It so evidently covered a brooding fire, the lavas of 
half-extinguished passions. The mouth, too, once fresh and 
scarlet, had a cold shade, and it was not quite straight; the 
right-hand corner drooped a little. This sinuous line seemed 
to hint at falsehood. Vice had disfigured the smile, but his 
teeth were still sound and white. 

These blemishes, too, were overlooked in the general effect 
of his face and figure. His grace was still so attractive that 
no younger man could compare with Maxime on horseback in 
the Bois de Boulogne, where he appeared more youthful and 
graceful than the youngest and most elegant of them all. 
This privilege of eternal youth has been seen in some men of 
our day. 

De Trailles was all the more dangerous because he seemed 
yielding and indolent, and never betrayed his obstinate fore- 
gone conclusions on every subject. This charming indiffer- 
ence, which enabled him to back up a seditious mob with as 
much skill as he could have brought to bear on a Court in- 
trigue. to strengthen the position of a King, had a certain 
charm. No one, especially in France, ever distrusts what 
seems calm and homogeneous; we are accustomed to so much 
stir about trifles. 

The count, dressed in the fashion of 1839, had on a black 
coat, a dark blue cashmere vest embroidered with light blue 
sprigs, black trousers, gray silk socks, and patent-leather shoes. 
His watch, in his vest pocket, was secured through a button- 
hole by a neat gold chain. 

‘* Rastignac,’’ said he, as he accepted the cup of tea held 


104 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


out to him by the pretty countess, ‘‘ will you come with me 
to the Austrian embassy ?”’ 

‘« My dear fellow, I am too recently married not to go home 
with my wife.’’ 

‘“Which means that by-and-by 
countess, looking round at her husband. 

‘By-and-by is the end of the world,’’ replied Maxime. 
‘But if you make madame the judge, that will win the case 
for me, I think?’’ 

Count Maxime, with a graceful gesture, drew the pretty 
countess to his side; she listened to a few words he said, and 
then remarked: ‘‘If you like to go to the embassy with 
Monsieur de Trailles, my mother will take me home,”’ 

A few minutes later the Baronne de Nucingen and the 
Countess de Rastignac went away together. Maxime and 
Rastignac soon followed; and when they were sitting together 
in the carriage— 

‘¢ What do you want of me, Maxime?’’ asked the husband. 
‘¢ What is the hurry, that you take me by the throat? And 
what did you say to my wife?’”’ 

‘“*That I wanted to speak to you,’’ replied Monsieur de 
Trailles. ‘* You are a lucky dog, you are! You have ended 
by marrying the sole heiress of the Nucingen millions—but 
you have worked for it. Twenty years of penal servitude 
like MY 

‘‘Maxime!”’ 

‘While I find myself looked at askance by everybody,”’ 
he went on, without heeding the interruption. ‘‘ A wretched 
creature—a du Tillet—asks if I have courage enough to kill 
myself! It is time to see where we stand. Do they want me 
out of the way, or dothey not? You can find out—you must 
find out,’’ said Maxime, silencing Rastignac by a gesture. 
‘‘This is my plan; listen to it. You ought to do mea ser- 
vice—I have served you, and can serve you again. The life 
I am leading bores me, and I want a pension. Help me to 





?’’ said the young 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 105 


conclude a marriage which will secure me half a million; 
once married, get me sent as minister to some wretched 
American republic. I will stay there long enough to justify 
my appointment toa similar post in Germany. If I am good 
for anything, I shall be promoted ; if I am good for nothing, 
I shall be cashiered. I may have a son; I will bring him 
up strictly; his mother will be rich; I will train him up to 
diplomacy ; he may become an ambassador ! ”’ 

‘© And this is my answer,’’ said Rastignac,. “Phere is a 
harder struggle to be fought out than the outside world 
imagines between a power in swaddling clothes and a child in 
power. The power in swaddling clothes is the Chamber of 
Deputies, which, not being restrained by a hereditary Chamber, 
may——”’ 

‘© Aha!’’ said Maxime, ‘‘ you are a peer of France!”’ 

‘¢ And shall I not remain so under any government ?”’ said 
the newly made peer. ‘‘ But do not interrupt, you are in- 
terested in all this muddle. The Chamber of Deputies will 
inevitably be the whole of the Government, as de Marsay 
used to tell us—the only man who might have rescued France; 
for a nation does not die; it is a slave or free, that is all. 
The child in power is the dynasty crowned in the month of 
August, 1830. 

‘“‘The present ministry is beaten; it has dissolved the 
Chamber, and will call a general election to prevent the next 
ministry from having the chance; but it has no hope of a vic- 
tory. If it should be victorious in the elections, the dynasty 
would be in danger; whereas, if the ministry is turned out, 
the dynastic party may struggle on and hold its own for some 
time yet. The blunders of the Chamber will turn to the ad- 
vantage of a Will, which, unfortunately, is the mainspring of 
politics. When one man is all in all, as Napoleon was, the 
Moment comes when he must have representatives; and as 
superior men are rejected; the great Head is not represented. 
The representative is called the Cabinet, and in France there 


106 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


is no Cabinet—only a Will for life. In France only those 
who govern can blunder; the Opposition can never blunder ; 
it may lose every battle and be none the worse; it is 
enough if, like the Allies in 1814, it wins but one victory. 
With ‘three glorious days’ it could destroy everything. 
Hence not to govern, but to sit and wait, is to be the 
next heir to power. Now, my personal feelings are on the 
side of the aristocracy, my public opinions on that of the 
dynasty of July. The House of Orleans has helped me to 
reinstate the fortunes of my family, and I am attached to it 
for ever.’’ 

‘¢The for ever of Monsieur de Talleyrand, of course,’’ de 
Trailles put in. 

‘*So at the present moment I can do nothing for you,’’ 
Rastignac went on, ‘‘ We shall not be in power these six 
months. Yes, for those six months, we shall be dying by 
inches: I have always known it. We knew our fate from the 
first ; we were but a stop-gap ministry. But if you distinguish 
yourself in the thick of the electoral fray that is beginning, 
if you become a vote—a member—faithful to the reigning 
dynasty, your wishes shall be attended to. I can say a great 
deal about your zeal, I can poke my nose into every secret 
document, every private and confidential letter, and find 
you some tough place to work up. If you succeed, I can 
urge your claims—your skill and devotion—and demand the 
reward. 

‘‘As to your marriage, my dear fellow, that can only be 
arranged in the country with some family of ambitious manu- 
facturers. In Paris you are too well known. The thing to 
find is a millionaire, a parvenu, with a daughter, and possessed 
with the ambition to swagger at the Tuileries.’’ 

‘‘Well; but get your father-in-law to lend me twenty-five 
thousand francs to carry me over meanwhile; then he will be 
interested in my not being dismissed with empty promises, 
and will promote my marriage.’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 107 


‘You are wide-awake, Maxime, and you do not trust me, 
but I like a clever fellow ; I will arrange that little business for 
you.” 

The carriage stopped. 

The Comte de Rastignac saw the minister of the Interior in 
the embassy drawing-room, and drew him into a corner. The 
Comte de Trailles was apparently devoting himself to the old 
Comtesse de Listomére, but in reality he was watching the 
two men ; he marked their gestures, interpreted their glances, 
and at last caught a friendly look toward himself from the 
minister’s eye. 

Maxime and Rastignac went away together at one in the 
morning, and before they each got into his own carriage, Ras- 
tignac said on the stairs— 

‘¢Come to see me when the elections are coming on. Be- 
tween this and then I shall find out where the Opposition is 
likely to be strongest, and what remedy may be devised by 
two such minds as ours.”’ 

‘*T am in a hurry for those twenty-five thousand francs!” 
réplied de Trailles. 

‘* Well, keep out of sight.’’ 

About seven weeks later, one morning before it was light, 
the Comte de Trailles drove mysteriously in a hackney-coach 
to the Rue de Varenne. He dismissed the coach on arriving 
at the door of the minister of Public Works, looked to see that 
he was not watched, and then waited in a small room on the 
first floor till Rastignac should be up. In a few minutes the 
manservant, who had carried in Maxime’s card, showed him 
into his master’s room, where the great man was finishing his 
toilet. 

‘My dear fellow,’’ said the minister, ‘I can tell you a 
secret which will be published in the newspapers within two 
days, and which you can turn to good account. That poor 
Charles Keller, who danced the mazurka so well, has been 
killed in Africa, and he was our candidate for the borough 


108 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


and district of Arcis. His death leaves a gap. Here are 
copies of the two reports—one from the sub-prefect, the other 
from the police commissioner—informing the ministry that 
there were difficulties in the way of our poor friend’s election, 
In the police commissioner’s letter you will find some informa- 
tion as to the state of the town which will be sufficient to 
guide a man of your ability, for the ambition of poor Charles 
Keller’s opponent is founded on his wish to marry an heiress. 
To a man like you this is hint enough. The Cinq-Cygnes, 
the Princesse de Cadignan, and Georges de Maufrigneuse are 
within a stone’s throw of Arcis; you could at need secure the 
legitimist votes. So——”’ 

‘‘Do not wear your tongue out,’’ said Maxime. ‘Is the 
police commissioner still at Arcis ?”’ 

eNOS: 

‘Give me a line to him.”’ 

“* My dear fellow,’’ said Rastignac, giving Maxime a packet 
of papers, ‘‘ you will find there two letters written to Gondre- 
ville to introduce you. You have been a page, he was a 
senator—you will understand each other. Madame Francois 
Keller is addicted to piety; here is a letter to her from the 
Maréchale de Carigliano. The maréchale is now Orleanist ; 
she recommends you warmly, and will, in fact, be going to 
Arcis. I have only one word to add: Be on your guard 
against the sub-prefect ; I believe him to be very capable of 
taking up this Simon Giguet as an advocate with the ex- 
president of the council. If you need more letters, powers, 
introductions—write me.’’ 

“‘And the twenty-five thousand francs?’’ asked Maxime. 

“Sign this bill on du Tillet ; here is the money.”’ 

‘T shall succeed,” said the count, ‘and you can promise 
the authorities that the Deputy for Arcis will be theirs, body 
and soul. If I fail, pitch me overboard ! ”’ 

And within an hour Maxime de Trailles, driving his tilbury, 
was on the road to Arcis. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 109 


As soon as he was furnished with the information supplied 
by the landlady of the Mulet and Antonin Goulard, Monsieur 
de Trailles lost no time in arranging the plan of his electoral 
campaign—a plan so obvious that the reader will have divined. 
it at once. This shrewd agent for his own private politics at 
once set up Philéas as the candidate in opposition to Simon 
Giguet ; and, notwithstanding that the man was an unlikely 
cipher, the idea, it must be admitted, had strong chances in 
its favor. Beauvisage, as wearing the halo of municipal 
authority, had, with the great mass of indifferent voters, the 
advantage of being known by reputation. Logic rules the 
development of affairs here below more than might be sup- 
posed—it is like a wife to whom, after every infidelity, a man 
is sure to return. 

Plain sense demands that the electors called upon to choose 
a representative of their common interests should always be 
amply informed as to his fitness, his honesty, and his char- 
acter. In practice, no doubt, this theory is often considerably 
strained ; but whenever the electoral flock is left to follow its 
instincts, and can believe that it is voting in obedience to its 
own lights and intelligence, it may be trusted to throw zeal 
and conscious pride into its decisions ; hence, while knowing 
their man is half the battle in the electoral sense, to know his 
name is, at any rate, a good beginning. 

Among lukewarm voters, beginning with the most fervent, 
Philéas was certain, in the first instance, to secure the Gondre- 
ville party. Any candidate would be certain of the support 
of the ‘‘ Viceroy’’ of Arcis, if it were only to punish the 
audacity of Simon Giguet. The election of an upstart, in the 
very act of flagrant ingratitude and hostility, wor'd cast a slur 
on the Comte de Gondreville’s provincial supremacy, and 
must be averted at any cost. Still, Beauvisage must expect, 
at the first announcement of his parliamentary ambition, a 
far from flattering or encouraging expression of surprise on 
the part of his father-in-law Grévin. The old man had, once 


110 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


for all, taken his son-in-law’s measure; and to a mind as well 
balanced and clear as his, the notion of Philéas as a states- 
man would have the same unpleasant effect as a startling dis- 
cord has on the ear. Also, if it is true that no man is a 
prophet in his own country, he is still less so in his own 
family, where any recognition of even the most indisputable 
success is grudged or questioned long after it has ceased to be 
doubted by the outer world. But, the first shock over, Grévin 
would probably become accustomed to an alternative, which, 
after all, was not antagonistic to his own notions for the future 
existence of Séverine. And then what sacrifice would he not 
be ready to make to save the high influence of the Gondre- 
villes, so evidently endangered ? 

To the legitimist and republican parties, neither of which 
could have any weight in the elections excepting to turn the 
scale, Monsieur de Trailles’ nominee had one strange recom- 
mendation—namely, his acknowledged ineptitude. These 
two fractional elements of the anti-dynastic opposition knew 
that neither was strong enough to return a member; hence 
they would probably be eager to embrace an opportunity of 
playing a trick on what they disdainfully called the established 
order of things; and it might confidently be expected that, 
in cheerful desperation, they would heartily contribute to the 
success of a candidate so grossly ridiculous as to reflect a 
broad beam of ridicule on the Government that could sup- 
port his election. Finally, in the suffrages of the Left Centre, 
which had provisionally accepted Simon Giguet as its candi- 
date, Beauvisage would give rise to a strong secession, since 
he too gave himself out as opposed to the reigning dynasty ; 
and Monsieur de Trailles, pending further orders, while assur- 
ing the mayor of the support of the ministry, meant to en- 
courage that political bias, which was undoubtedly the most 
popular on the scene of operations. 

Whatever budget of convictions the incorruptible representa- 
tive might carry with him to Paris, his horoscope was drawn ; 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. lil 


it was quite certain that on his very first appearance at the 
Tuileries, august fascination would win him over to fanaticism, 
if the mere snares of ministerial enticement were not enough 
to produce that result. 

Public interest being so satisfactorily arranged for, the 
electoral agent had now to consider the personal question : 
Whether, while manufacturing a deputy, he could find the 
stuff that would also make a father-in-law. The first point— 
the fortune, and the second point—the young lady, met his 
views; the first without dazzling him, the second without his 
being blind to the defects of a provincial education which 
must be corrected from the beginning, but which would prob- 
ably not offer any serious resistance to his skillful marital 
guidance. Madame Beauvisage carried her husband away by 
storm; she was an ambitious woman, who, in spite of her 
four-and-forty years, still seemed conscious of a heart. Con- 
sequently, the best game to play would perhaps be a feint 
attack on her, to be subsequently turned with advantage on 
the daughter. 

How far must the advanced works be carried? <A question 
to be answered as circumstances might direct. In any case, 
so far as the two women were concerned, Maxime felt that he 
had the strong recommendation of his title, his reputation as 
a man of fashion, and his peculiar fitness to initiate them into 
the elegant and difficult arcana of Paris life; and, finally, as 
the founder of Beauvisage’s political fortunes, which promised 
such a happy revolution in the life of these two exiled ladies, 
might not Monsieur de Trailles expect to find them enthusi- 
astically grateful P 

At the same time, there remained one serious difficulty in 
the way of a successful matrimonial campaign. He must ob- 
tain the consent of old Grévin, who was not the man to allow 
Cécile’s marriage without making the strictest inquiries into 
the past career of her suitor. Now, in the event of such an 
inquiry, was there not some fear that a punctilious old man 


112 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


might fail to find a record of such complete security and con- 
ventional virtues as his prudence might insist on? 

The semi-governmental mission which had brought Monsieur 
de Trailles to Arcis would indeed give a semblance of such 
importance and amendment as might be calculated to neu- 
tralize the effect of certain items of information. And if, be- 
fore this mission were made public, it were confided as a great 
secret to Grévin by Gondreville, the old man’s vanity would 
be flattered, and that would score in Maxime’s favor. 

He then resolved, in this difficult predicament, to adopt 
the very old trick attributed to Gribouille, consisting in throw- 
ing himself into the water to avoid getting wet. He would 
anticipate the old notary’s suspicions ; he himself would seem 
to doubt his own prudence; and, by way of a precaution 
against the temptations that had so long beset him, he deter- 
mined to make it a preliminary condition that Cécile’s for- 
tune should be expressly settled on herself. By this means 
they would feel safe against any relapse on his part into habits 
of extravagance. 

It would be his business to acquire such influence over his 
young wife as would enable him, by acting on her feelings, to 
recover the conjugal authority of which such a marriage-con- 
tract would deprive him. 

At first nothing occurred to make him doubt the wisdom 
and perspicacity of all these projects. As soon as it was 
mooted, the nomination of Beauvisage caught fire like a train 
of gunpowder; and Monsieur de Trailles thought the success 
of all his schemes so probable that he felt justified in writing 
to Rastignac, pledging himself to carry out his mission with 
the happiest and completest results. 

But, suddenly in opposition to Beauvisage the triumphant, 
another candidate appeared on the scene; and, it may be in- 
cidentally noted, that, for the good fortune of this piece of 
history, the competitor presented himself under conditions so 
exceptional and so unforeseen that, instead of a picture of 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 113 


petty conflicts attending a country election, it may very prob- 
ably afford the interest of a far more exciting drama. 

The man who intervenes in this narrative to fill so high 
a calling will be called upon to play so important a part 
that it is necessary to introduce him by a somewhat lengthy 
retrospective explanation. But at the stage we have reached, 
to interrupt the story by a sort of argument in the middle 
would be a breach of all the laws of art, and expose me to the 
wrath of the Critic, that sanctimonious guardian of literary 
orthodoxy. 

In the presence of such a dilemma, the author would find 
himself in serious difficulties, but that his lucky star threw in 
his way a correspondence in which he found every detail he 
could wish to place before the reader set forth in order, with 
a brilliancy and vividness he could not have hoped to achieve. 

These letters are worthy of being read with attention. 
While they bring on to the scene many actors in the Human 
Comedy who have appeared before, they explain a number of 
facts indispensable to the understanding and progress of this 
particular drama. When they have been presented, and the 
narrative thus brought up to the point where it now apparently 
breaks off, it will resume its course without any hiatus ; and 
the author flatters himself that the introduction for a time of 
the epistolary form, instead of destroying its unity, may, in| 
fact, enhance it. 


8 


£ 


PART II. 
EDIFYING LETTERS. 
THE COMTE DE L’ESTORADE TO MARIE-GASTON.* 


My DEAR SiR :—In obedience to your request, I have seen 
M. the Préfet of Police, to ascertain whether the pious pur- 
pose of which you speak in your letter dated from Carrara 
will meet with any opposition on the part of the authorities. 
He informs me that the Imperial decree of the 23d Prairial 
of the year XII., which is still paramount on all points con- 
nected with interments, establishes beyond a doubt the right 
of every landowner to be buried in his own ground. You 
have only to apply for permission from the préfet of the De- 
partment—Seine-et-Oise—and without any further formality, 
you can transfer the mortal remains of Madame Marie-Gaston 
to the monument you propose to erect to her in your park at 


. Ville-d’Avray. 


But I may now be so bold as to suggest to you some objec- 
tions. Are you quite sure that difficulties may not be raised 
by the Chaulieu family, with whom you are not on the best 
terms? In fact, might they not, up to a certain point, be 
justified in complaining that, by removing a tomb—dear to 
them as well as to you—from a public cemetery to private and 
inclosed ground, you are regulating the visits they may wish 
to pay to that grave by your own arbitrary will and pleasure? 
Since, evidently, it will be in your power to prohibit their 
coming on to your property. 

I am well aware that, strictly speaking, a wife, living or 
dead, belongs to her husband, to the exclusion of all other 


* See “ Letters of Two Brides.” 


(114) 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 115 


relationship however near. But if, under the promptings of 
the ill-feeling they have already manifested toward you on 
more than one occasion, Madame Marie-Gaston’s parents 
should choose to dispute your decision by an action at law, 
what a painful business it must be! You would gain the day, 
I make no doubt, the Duc de Chaulieu’s influence being no 
longer what it was at the time of the Restoration; but have 
you considered what venom an advocate’s tongue can infuse 
into such a question, especially when arguing a very natural 
claim: that of a father, mother, and two brothers, pleading 
to be left in possession of the melancholy gratification of 
praying over a grave? 

, And if I must indeed tell you my whole mind, it is with 
deep regret that I find you inventing new forms of cherishing 
your grief, too long inconsolable. We had hoped that, after 
spending two years in Italy, you would return more resigned, 
and would make up your mind to seek some diversion , from 
your sorrow in active life. But this sort of temple to ardent 
memories which you are proposing to erect in a place where 
they already crush you too closely, can only prolong their 
bitterness, and I cannot approve the perennial renewal you 
will thus confer on them. 

However, as we are bound to serve our friends in their own 
way, I have conveyed your message to Monsieur Dorlange; 
still, I cannot but tell you that he was far from eager to enter 
into your views. His first words, when I announced myself 
as representing you, were that he had not the honor of know- 
ing you; and, strange as the reply may seem to you, it was 
spoken with such perfect simplicity, that at first I imagined I 
had made some mistake, some confusion of name. However, 
as your oblivious friend presently admitted that he had been 
at school at the college of Tours, and also that he was the 
same M. Dorlange who, in 1831, had taken the first prize for 
sculpture under quite exceptional circumstances, I could enter- 
tain no doubt as to his identity. I then accounted to myself 


116 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


for his defective memory by the long break in your inter- 
course, of which you wrote. That neglect must have wounded 
him more than you imagined ; and when he affected not even 
to recollect your name, it was a revenge he was not sorry 
to take. 

This, however, is not the real obstacle. 

Remembering on what brotherly terms you had formerly 
been, I could not believe that M. Dorlange’s wrath would be 
inexorable. And so, after explaining to him the work he was 
invited to undertake, I was about to enter on some explana- 
tions as to his grievance against you, when I was met by the 
most unlooked-for obstacle. 

“‘Indeed,’’ said he, ‘‘ the importance of the commission 
you are good enough to propose to me, the assurance that no 
outlay will be thought too great for the dignity and perfection 
of the work, the invitation to set out myself for Carrara to 
superintend the choice and extraction of the marbles—the 
whole thing is a piece of such great good fortune for an artist, 
that at any other time I should have accepted it eagerly. But 
at this moment, when you honor me with a call, though I 
have no fixed intention of abandoning my career as an artist, 
I am possibly about to be launched in political life. My 
friends are urging me to come forward as a candidate at the 
coming elections ; and, as you will understand, monsieur, if 
I should be returned, the complication of parliamentary 
duties, and my initiation into a new experience, would, for 
some time at any rate, stand in the way of undertaking such 
a work as you propose, with the necessary leisure and thought. 
Also,’’ added M. Dorlange, ‘‘I should be working in the 
service of a great sorrow anxious to find consolation at any 
cost in the projected monument. That sorrow would natu- 
rally be impatient ; I should inevitably be slow, disturbed, 
hindered ; it will be better, therefore, to apply to some one 
else—which does not make me less grateful for the honor and 
confidence you have shown me.”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 117 


After listening to this little speech, very neatly turned, as 
you perceive, it struck me that your friend was anticipating 
parliamentary triumphs, perhaps a little too confidently, and, 
for a moment, I thought of hinting at the possibility of his 
failing at the election, and asking whether, in that case, I 
might call on him again. But it is never polite to cast doubts 
on popular success; and as I was talking to a man already 
much offended, I would not throw oil on the fire by a ques- 
tion that might have been taken amiss. I merely expressed 
my regrets, and said I would let you know the result of my 
visit. 

I need hardly say that within a few days I shall have 
found out what are the prospects of this parliamentary ambi- 
tion which has arisen so inopportunely in our way. For my 
part, there seem to me to be a thousand reasons for expecting 
it to miss fire. Assuming this, you would perhaps do well to 
write M. Dorlange; for his manner, though perfectly polite 
and correct, appeared to confess a still lively memory of some 
wrong for which you will have to obtain forgiveness. I know 
that it must be painful to you to explain the very singular cir- 
cumstances of your marriage, for it will compel you to retrace 
the days of your happiness, now so cruelly a memory. But, 
judging from what I saw of your old friend, if you are really 
bent on his giving you the benefit of his talents, if you do not 
apply to him yourself, but continue to employ a go-between, 
you will be persisting in a course which he finds disobliging, 
, and expose yourself to a final refusal. 

At the same time, if the step I urge on you is really too 
much for you, there is perhaps another alternative. Madame 
de l’Estorade has always seemed to me a very tactful negoti- 
ator in any business she undertakes, and in this particular in- 
stance I should feel entire confidence in her skill. She en- 
dured, from Madame Marie-Gaston’s gusts of selfish passion, 
treatment much like that of which Monsieur Dorlange com- 
plains. She, better than anybody, will be in a position to ex- 


118 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


plain to him the absorbing cares of married life which you shut 
up in its own narrow folds; and it seems to me that the ex- 
ample of longsuffering and patience which she always showed 
to her whom she would call her ‘‘ dear crazy thing,’’ cannot 
fail to infect your mind. 

You have ample time to think over the use you may wish 
to make of the opening that thus offers. Madame de 1’ Esto- 
rade is just now suffering from a nervous shock, the result of a 
terrible fright. A week ago our dear little Nais was within an 
ace of being crushed before her eyes ; and but for the courage 
of a stranger who rushed at the horses’ heads and brought them 
up short, God knows what dreadful misfortune would have be- 
fallen us. This fearful moment produced in Madame de 1’Es- 
torade an attack of nervous excitement which made us for a 
time excessively anxious. Though she is much better to-day, 
it will be some days yet before she can see Monsieur Dorlange, 
supposing you should think her feminine intervention desirable 
and useful. 

Still, once again, my dear sir, would it not be wiser to give 
up your idea? All I can foresee as the outcome for you is 
enormous expense, unpleasant squabbles with the Chaulieus, 
and a renewal of all your sorrows. Notwithstanding, I am 
none the less at your service in and for anything, as I cannot 
fail to be, from every sentiment of esteem and friendship. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


PaRIs, February, 1839. 

Dear FrienD:—Of all the expressions of sympathy that 
have reached me since the dreadful accident to my poor child, 
none has touched me more deeply than your kind letter. To 
answer your affectionate inquiry, I must say that in that ter- 
rible moment Nais was marvelously composed and calm. It 
would be impossible, I think, to see death more imminent, 
but neither at the time nor afterward did the brave child 


THE DEPUTY FORK ARCIS. 119 


flinch ; everything shows her to have a firm nature, and her 
health, thank God, has not suffered in the faintest degree. 

I, for my part, as a consequence of my intense fright, have 
had an attack of spasmodic convulsions, and for some days, it 
would seem, alarmed my doctor, who feared I might go out of 
my mind. Thanks, however, to a strong constitution, I am 
now almost myself again, and no traces would remain of that 
painful shock if it had not, by a singular fatality, been con- 
nected with another unpleasant circumstance which I had for 
some time thought fit to fill a place in my life. 

Even before this latest kind assurance of your good-will 
toward me, I had thought of turning to the help of your 
friendship and advice; and now, when you are so good as to 
write that you would be happy and proud if in any degree you 
might take the place of poor Louise de Chaulieu, the dear, 
incomparable friend snatched from me by death, how can I 
hesitate? I take you at your word, my dear madame, and 
boldly request you to exert in my favor the delicate skill 
which enabled you to defy impertinent comment when the 
impossibility of announcing your marriage to Monsieur de 
Camps exposed you to insolent and perfidious curiosity—the 
peculiar tact by which you extricated yourself from a position 
of difficulty and danger—in short, the wonderful art which 
allowed you at once to keep your secret and maintain your 
dignity. I need their help in the disagreeable matter to 
which I have alluded. Unfortunately, to benefit by the doc- 
tor’s advice, the patient must explain the case; and here M. 
de Camps, with his genius for business, seems to me an atro- 
cious person. Owing to those odious forges he has chosen to 
buy, you are as good as dead to Paris and the world. Of old, 
when you were at hand, in a quarter of an hour’s chat I could 
have told the whole story without hesitancy or preparation ; 
as it is, I have to think it all out and go through the solemn 
formality of a confession in black and white. 
~ After all, effrontery will perhaps best serve my turn; and 


120 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


since, in spite of circumlocutions and preambles, I must at 
last come to the point, why not confess at once that at the 
kernel of the matter is that very stranger who rescued my poor 
little girl. A stranger—be it clearly understood—to M. de 
l’Estorade, and to all who may have reported the accident ; a 
stranger to the whole world, if you please—but not to your 
humble servant, whom this man has for three months past 
condescended to honor with the most persistent attention. It 
cannot seem any less preposterous to you than it does to me, 
my dear friend, that I, at two-and-thirty, with three children, 
one a tall son of fifteen, should have become the object of 
unremitting devotion, and yet that is the absurd misfortune 
against which I have to protect myself. 

And when I say that I know the unknown, this is but partly 
true: I know neither his name nor his place of residence, nor 
anything about him; I never met him in society; and I may 
add that though he has the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, 
nothing in his appearance, which has no trace of elegance, 
leads me to suppose that I ever shall meet him in society. 

It was at the church of Saint-Thomas d’Aquin, where, as 
you know, I was in the daily habit of attending mass, that 
this annoying ‘‘shadowing’’ first began. I also took the 
children out walking in the Tuileries almost every day, M. de 
l’Estorade having taken a house without a garden. This 
custom was soon noted by my persecutor, and gave him bold- 
ness ; for wherever I was to be found out of doors I had to put 
up with his presence. But this singular adorer was as prudent 
as he was daring; he always avoided following me to my door; 
and he steered his way at such a distance and so undemon- 
stratively, that I had at any rate the comforting certainty that 
his foolish assiduity could not attract the notice of anybody 
who was with me. And yet, heaven alone knows to what 
inconveniences and privations I have submitted to put him off 
my track. I never entered the church but on Sunday; and 
to the risk of the dear children’s health I have often kept them 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 121 


at home, or invented excuses for not going out with them, 
leaving them to the servants—against all my principles of 
education and prudence. 

Visits, shopping—I can do nothing but in a carriage; and 
all this could not hinder that, just when I fancied I had 
routed this tiresome person and exhausted his patience, he 
was on the spot to play so brave and providential a part in 
that dreadful accident to Nais. But it is this very obligation 
which I now owe him that introduces a vexatious complica- 
tion into a position already so awkward. If I had at last 
been too much annoyed by his persistency I might by some 
means, even by some decisive action, have put an end to his 
persecution ; but now, if he comes across my path, what can 
Ido? Howam I to proceed? Merely to thank him would 
be to encourage him; and even if he should not try to take 
advantage of my civilities to alter our relative position, I 
should have him at my heels closer than ever. Am I then 
not to notice him, to affect not to recognize him? But, my 
dear madame, think! A mother who owes her child’s life to 
his efforts and pretends not to perceive it—who has not a 
word of gratitude ! 

This, then, is the intolerable dilemma in which I find my- 
self, and you can see how sorely I need your advice and 
judgment. What can I do to break the odious habit this 
gentleman has formed of following me like my shadow? 
How am I to thank him without exciting his imagination, 
or to avoid thanking him without suffering the reproaches 
of my conscience? This is the problem I submit to your 
wisdom. 

If you will do me the service of solving it—and I know 
no one else so capable—I shall add my gratitude to the 
affection which, as you know, dear madame, I already feel 
for you. 





122 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


THE COMTE DE L’ESTORADE TO MARIE-GASTON. 


Paris, February, 1839. 

The public prints, my dear sir, may have been beforehand 
in giving you an account of a meeting between your friend 
M. Dorlange and the Duc de Rhétoré. But the newspapers, 
by announcing the bare facts—since custom and propriety do 
not allow them to expatiate on the motives of the quarrel— 
will only have excited your curiosity without satisfying it. I 
happen to know on good authority all the details of the affair, 
and I hasten to communicate them to you, as they must to 
you be of the greatest interest. 

Three days ago, that is to say, on the evening of the day 
when I had called on M. Dorlange, the Duc de Rhétoré was 
in a stall at the opera. M. de Ronquerolles, who has lately 
returned from a diplomatic mission that had detained him far 
from Paris for some years, presently took the seat next to him. 
Between the acts these gentlemen did not leave their places to 
walk in the gallery ; but, as is commonly done in the theatre, 
they stood up with their backs to the stage, consequently facing 
M. Dorlange, who sat behind them and seemed absorbed in 
the evening’s news. There had been a very uproarious scene 
in the Chamber—what is termed a very interesting debate. 
The conversation turned very naturally on the events in Paris 
society during M. de Ronquerolles’ absence, and he happened 
to make this remark, which, of course, attracted M. Dorlange’s 
attention : 

‘*And that poor Madame de Macumer—what a sad end, 
and what a strange marriage! ’”’ 

‘‘Oh, you know,’’ said M. de Rhétoré in the high-pitched 
tone he affects, ‘‘ my sister had too much imagination not to 
be a little chimerical and romantic. She was passionately in 
love with M. de Macumer, her first husband ; still, one may 
tire of all things, even of widowhood. This M. Marie-Gaston 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUIS, 123 


came in her way. He is attractive in person; my sister was 
rich, he very much in debt; he was proportionately amiable 
and attentive; and, on my honor, the rogue managed so 
cleverly that, after stepping into M. de Macumer’s shoes and 
making his wife die of jealousy, he got out of her everything 
that the law allowed the poor silly woman to dispose of. 
Louise left a fortune of at least twelve hundred thousand 
francs, to say nothing of magnificent furniture and a delight- 
ful villa she had built at Ville-d’Avray. Half of this came to 
our gentleman, the other half to my father and mother, the 
Duc and Duchesse de Chaulieu, who, as parents, had a right 
to that share. As to my brother Lenoncourt and me—we 
were simply disinherited for our portion.’’ 

As soon as your name was pronounced, my dear sir, M. 
Dorlange laid down his paper; then, as M. de Rhétoré ceased 
speaking, he rose. 

‘*I beg your pardon, M. le Duc, for taking the liberty of 
correcting your statements ; but, as a matter of conscience, I 
must assure you that you are to the last degree misinformed.”’ 

**'You say? ”” replied the duke, half-closing his eyes, . 
and in a tone of contempt which you can easily imagine. 

‘‘T say, Monsieur le Duc, that Marie-Gaston has been my 
friend from childhood, and that he has never been called a 
rogue. On the contrary, he is a man of honor and talent; 
and far from making his wife die of jealousy, he made her 
perfectly happy during three years of married life. As to her 
fortune——’”’ 

‘‘You have considered the consequences of this step?’’ 
said the duke, interrupting him. 

‘‘Certainly, monsieur. And I repeat that, with regard to 
the fortune left to Marie-Gaston by a special provision in his 
wife’s will, he coveted it so little that, to my knowledge, he 
is about to devote a sum of two or three hundred thousand 
francs to the erection of a monument to the wife he has never 
ceased to mourn.”’ 





124 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘And, after all, monsieur, who are you?’’ the Duc de 
Rhétoré broke in again, with growing irritation. 

‘‘In a moment I shall have the honor to inform you,”’ re- 
plied M. Dorlange. ‘‘ But, first, you will allow me to add 
that Madame Marie-Gaston could have no pangs of conscience 
in disposing as she did of the fortune of which you have been 
deprived. All her wealth, as a matter of fact, came to her 
from M. le Baron de Macumer, her first husband, and she 
had previously renounced her patrimony to secure an adequate 
position to your brother, M. le Duc de Lenoncourt-Givry, 
who, as a younger son, had not, like yourself, M. le Duc, the 
benefit of the entail.’’ 

M. Dorlange felt in his pocket for his card-case, but it was 
not there. 

‘‘T have no cards about me,’’ he said; ‘‘ but my name is 
Dorlange—a sort of stage-name, and easy to remember—42 
Rue de 1’Ouest.’’ 

‘“ Not a very central position,’? M. de Rhétoré remarked 
ironically. 

At the same time he turned to M. de Ronquerolles, and 
taking him as a witness and as his second— 

‘‘T must apologize to you, my dear fellow,’’ said he, ‘‘ for 
sending you on a voyage of discovery to-morrow morning.”’ 
Then he added: ‘*‘ Come to the smoking-room ; we can talk 
there in peace, and at any rate in securtty.’’ 

By the emphasis he laid on the last word, it was impossible 
to misunderstand the innuendo it was meant to convey. The 
two gentlemen went out, without the scene having given rise 
to any commotion or fuss; since the stalls all round them were 
empty, and M. Dorlange then caught sight of M. Stidman, 
the famus sculptor, at the other end of the stalls. He went 
up to him. 

‘Do you happen to have,’’ said he, ‘‘such a thing as a 
memorandum or sketch book in your pocket ?”’ 

‘¢ Yes—always.”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 125 


‘¢ Then would you lend it to me and allow me to tear a leaf 
out? I have just had an idea that I do not want to lose. If 
I should not see you as you go out, to return the book, you 
shall have it without fail to-morrow morning.’’ 

On returning to his seat M. Dorlange made a hasty pencil 
sketch ; and when the curtain rose, and MM. de Rhétoré and 
de Ronquerolles came back to their places, he lightly touched 
the duke on the shoulder, and, handing him the drawing, he 
said, ‘‘ My card, which I have the honor of giving to your 
_ grace.”’ 

The card was a pretty sketch of sculpturesque architecture 
set in a landscape. Underneath it was written: ‘Sketch for 
a monument to be erected to the memory of Madame Marie- 
Gaston, mée Chaulieu, by her husband, from the designs of 
Charles Dorlange, sculptor, Rue l’Ouest, 42.”’ 

He could have found no more ingenious way of intimating 
to M. de Rhétoré that he had no mean adversary; and you 
may observe, my dear sir, that M. Dorlange thus gave weight 
to his denial by giving substance, so to speak, to his statement 
as to your disinterestedness and conjugal devotion and grief. 

The performance ended without any further incident. M. 
de Rhétoré parted from M. de Ronquerolles. 

M. de Ronquerolles then addressed M. Dorlange, very cour- 
teously endeavoring to effect a reconciliation, observing that 
though he might be in the right, his conduct was unconven- 
tional and offensive, that M. de Rhétoré had behaved with 
great moderation, and would certainly accept the very slightest 
expression of regret—in fact, said everything that could be 
said on such an occasion. M. Dorlange would not hear of 
anything approaching to an apology, and on the following 
day he received a visit from M. de Ronquerolles and General 
de Montriveau as representing M. de Rhétoré. Again they 
were urgent that M. Dorlange should consent to express him- 
self in different language. But your friend was not to be 
moved from this ultimatum. 


126 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUS. 


“Will M. Rhétoré withdraw the expressions I felt myself 
bound to take exception to? If so, I will retract mine.”’ 

‘¢ That is impossible,’ said they. ‘* The offense was per- 
sonal to M. de Rhétoré, to you it was not. Rightly or 
wrongly, he firmly believes that M. Marie-Gaston did him an 
injury. Allowance must always be made for damaged in- 
terests ; perfect justice is never to be gotten from them.”’ 

“*So that M. le Duc may continue to slander my friend at 
his pleasure! ’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘‘since, in the first place, 
my friend is in Italy; and in the second, he would always, if 
possible, avoid coming to extreme measures with his wife’s 
brother. And,’’ he added, ‘‘it is precisely this impossibility 
of his defending himself which gives me a right—nay more, 
makes it my duty to intervene. It was by a special grace of 
Providence that I was enabled to catch some of the malignant 
reports that are flying about on the wing; and since M. le 
Duc de Rhétoré sees no reason to mitigate his language, we 
will, if you please, carry the affair through to the end.’’ 

The dispute being reduced to these terms, the duel was 
inevitable, and in the course of the day the seconds on both 
sides arranged the conditions. The meeting was fixed for the 
next morning; the weapons, pistols. On the ground, M. 
Dorlange was perfectly cool. After exchanging shots without 
effect, as the seconds seemed anxious to stop the proceedings— 

‘‘Come,’’ said he cheerfully, ‘‘one shot more!’’ as if he 
were firing at a dummy in a shooting gallery. 

This time he was wounded in the fleshy part of the thigh, 
not a dangerous wound, but one which bled very freely. 
While he was being carried to the carriage in which he had 
come, M. de Rhétoré was anxiously giving every assistance, 
and when he was close to him—‘‘ All the same,’’ said Dor- 
lange, ‘‘ Marie-Gaston is an honest gentleman, a heart of 
gold ”” and he fainted away almost as he spoke. 

This duel, as you may suppose, my dear sir, has been the 
talk of the town; I have only had to keep my ears open to 








126 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUS. 


“‘ Will M. Rhétoré withdraw the expressions I felt myself 
bound to take exception to? If so, I will retract mine.’’ 

‘¢ That is impossible,’’ said they. ‘* The offense was per- 
sonal to M. de Rhétoré, to you it was not. Rightly or 
wrongly, he firmly believes that M. Marie-Gaston did him an 
injury. Allowance must always be made for damaged in- 
terests ; perfect justice is never to be gotten from them.”’ 

“¢So that M. le Duc may continue to slander my friend at 
his pleasure! ’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘‘since, in the first place, 
my friend is in Italy; and in the second, he would always, if 
possible, avoid coming to extreme measures with his wife’s 
brother. And,’’ he added, ‘‘it is precisely this impossibility 
of his defending himself which gives me a right—nay more, 
makes it my duty to intervene. It was by a special grace of 
Providence that I was enabled to catch some of the malignant 
reports that are flying about on the wing; and since M. le 
Duc de Rhétoré sees no reason to mitigate his language, we 
will, if you please, carry the affair through to the end.”’ 

The dispute being reduced to these terms, the duel was 
inevitable, and in the course of the day the seconds on both 
sides arranged the conditions. The meeting was fixed for the 
next morning; the weapons, pistols. On the ground, M. 
Dorlange was perfectly cool. After exchanging shots without 
effect, as the seconds seemed anxious to stop the proceedings— 

‘*Come,’’ said he cheerfully, ‘‘one shot more!’’ as if he 
were firing at a dummy in a shooting gallery. 

This time he was wounded in the fleshy part of the thigh, 
not a dangerous wound, but one which bled very freely. 
While he was being carried to the carriage in which he had 
come, M. de Rhétoré was anxiously giving every assistance, 
and when he was close to him—‘‘ All the same,”’ said Dor- 
lange, ‘‘ Marie-Gaston is an honest gentleman, a heart of 
gold ”” and he fainted away almost as he spoke. 

This duel, as you may suppose, my dear sir, has been the 
talk of the town; I have only had to keep my ears open to 





— 
ae 


a 





alana We 


THIS TIME HE WAS WOUNDED. 














THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 127 


collect any amount of information concerning M. Dorlange, 
for he is the lion of the day, and all yesterday it was im- 
possible to go into a house where he was not the subject of 
conversation. My harvest was chiefly gathered at Mme. de 
Montcornet’s. She, as you know, has a large acquaintance 
among artists and men of letters; and to give you a notion of 
the position your friend holds in their regard, I need only 
report a conversation in which I took part last evening in 
the countess’ drawing-room. The speakers were M. Emile 
Blondet, of the ‘* Débats;’’ M. Bixiou the caricaturist, one 
of the best-informed eavesdroppers in Paris—I believe you 
know them both, but at any rate I am sure that you are inti- 
mate with Joseph Bridau, our great painter, who was the third 
speaker, for I remember that he and Daniel d’Arthez signed 
for you when you were married. 

Bridau was speaking when I joined them. 

‘¢Dorlange began splendidly,’’ said he. ‘* There was the 
touch of a great master even in the work he sent in for com- 
petition, to which, under the pressure of opinion, the Academy 
awarded the prize, though he had laughed very audaciously at 
their programme.”’ 

‘¢Quite true,’” said M. Bixiou. ‘‘And the Pandora he 
exhibited in 1837, on his return from Rome, was also a very 
striking work. But as it won him, out of hand, the Legion 
of Honor and commissions from the Government and the 
municipality, with at least thirty flaming notices in the papers, 
I doubt if he can ever recover from that success.’’ 

‘‘ That is a verdict @ a Bixiou,’’ said Emile Blondet. 

‘*So it is, and with good reason. Did you ever see the 
man ?’?’ 

‘No, he is seen nowhere.”’ 

“True, that is his favorite haunt. He is a bear, but a bear 
intentionally ; out of affectation and deliberate purpose.”’ 

“‘T really cannot see,’’ said Joseph Bridau, ‘‘that such a 
dislike to society is a bad frame of mind foran artist. What 


128 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


can a sculptor, especially, gain by frequenting drawing-rooms 
where men and women have got into the habit of wearing 
clothes ?’’ 

‘‘ Well, even a sculptor may get some amusement which 
saves him from monomania or brooding. And then he can 
see how the world wags—that 1839 is neither the fifteenth nor 
the sixteenth century.” 

‘‘What!’’ said Blondet, ‘‘do you mean the poor fellow 
suffers from that delusion ?’”’ 

‘“‘He! He talks quite glibly of living the life of the artists 
of medizeval times, with all their universal studies and learn- 
ing, and the terrific labors which we can conceive of in a 
society that was still semi-barbarous, but that has no place in 
ours. He is a guileless dreamer, and never perceives that 
civilization, by strangely complicating our social intercourse, 
devotes to business, interest, and pleasure thrice as much time 
as a less advanced social organization would spend on those 
objects. Look at the savage in his den! He has nothing to 
do; but we, with the Bourse, the opera, the newspapers, 
parliamentary debates, drawing-room meetings, elections, rail- 
roads, the Café de Paris, and the National Guard—when, I ask 
you, are we to find time for work ?’”’ 

‘‘A splendid theory for idlers,’’ said Emile Blondet, 
laughing. 

‘Not at all, my dear boy; it is perfectly true. The curfew 
no longer rings at nine o’clock, I suppose! Well, and only 
last evening, if my door-porter Ravenouillet didn’t give a 
party! Perhaps I committed a serious blunder by declining 
the indirect invitation he sent me.’’ 

** Still,’’ said Joseph Bridau, ‘¢ it is evident that a man who 
is not mixed up with the business interests or pleasures of his 
age may, out of his savings, accumulate a very pretty capital 
of time. Dorlange, I fancy, has a comfortable income irre- 
spective of commissions ; there is nothing to hinder him from 
living as he has a mind to live. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 129 


‘¢ And, as you see, he goes to the opera, since it was there 
he picked up his duel. And, indeed, you have hardly hit the 
nail on the head by representing him as cut off from all con- 
temporary interests, when I happen to know that he is on the 
point of taking them up on the most stirring and absorbing 
side of the social machine—namely, politics! ’’ 

‘What! he thinks he can be a politician?’’ asked Emile 
Blondet scornfully. 

‘It is part, no doubt, of his famous scheme of universal 
efficiency, and you should see how logically and perseveringly 
he is carrying out the idea. Last year two hundred and fifty 
thousand francs fell on him from the sky, and my man pur- 
chased a house in the Rue Saint-Martin as a qualification ; and 
then, as another little speculation, with the rest of the money 
he bought shares in the ‘ National’ newspaper, and I find 
him in the office whenever I am in the mood to have a laugh 
at the Republican Utopia. There he has his flatterers ; they 
have persuaded him that he is a born orator and will make a 
sensation in the Chamber. There is, in fact, a talk of work- 
ing up a constituency to nominate him, and on days when 
they are very enthusiastic they discover that he is like 
Danton.”’ 

“Oh, this is the climax of burlesque!’’ said Emile 
Blondet. 

I do not know, my dear sir, whether you have ever observed 
that men of superior talent are always extremely indulgent. 
This was now proven in the person of Joseph Bridau. 

‘‘T agree with you,”’ said he, ‘‘ that if Dorlange starts on 
that track he is almost certainly lost to art. But, after all, 
why should he not be a success in the Chamber? He speaks 
with great fluency, and seems to be full of ideas. Look at 
Canalis; when he won his election: ‘ Faugh! a poet!’ 
said one and another, which has not prevented his making 
himself famous as an orator and being made minister.”’ 

‘Well, the first point is to get elected,’’ said Emile 

9 


130 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Blondet. ‘* What place does Dorlange think of standing 
for?”’ 

‘‘ For one of the rotten boroughs of the ‘ National,’ of 
course,’’ remarked Bixiou. ‘‘ However, I do not know that 
the place is yet decided on.”’ 

‘*As a general rule,’’ said the ‘‘ Débats’’ man, ‘‘to be 
returned as member, even with the hottest support of your 
party, requires a somewhat extensive political notoriety, or, 
else, at least, some good provincial status of family or of 
fortune. Does any one know whether Dorlange can command 
these elements of success ?’’ 

‘¢ As to family status, that would be a particular difficulty 
with him; his family is non-existent to a desperate extent.”’ 

“‘Indeed,’’ said Blondet. ‘‘ Then he is a natural son ?’’ 

‘¢ As natural as may be—father and mother alike unknown. 
But I can quite imagine his being elected; it is the rank and 
file of his political notions that will be so truly funny.” 

‘¢ He must be a republican if he is a friend of the gentle- 
men on the ‘ National,’ and has a likeness to Danton.’’ 

‘* Evidently. But he holds his fellow-believers in utter 
contempt, and says that they are good for nothing but fight- 
ing, rough play, and big talk. So provisionally he will put up 
with a monarchy bolstered up by republican institutions— 
though he asserts that this citizen-kingship must infallibly be 
undermined by the abuse of private interest which he calls 
corruption. This would tempt him to join the little church 
of the Left Centre; but there again—there is always a but— 
he can discern nothing but a coalition of ambitious and emas- 
culated men, unconsciously smoothing the way to a revolution 
which he sees already on the horizon; to his great regret, 
because in his opinion the masses are neither sufficiently pre- 
pared nor sufficiently intelligent to keep it from slipping 
through their fingers. 

“‘As to Legitimism, he laughs at it; he will not accept it 
as a principle under any aspect. He regards it simply as a more 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 131 


definite and time-honored form of hereditary monarchy, allows 
it no other superiority than that of old wine over new. And 
while he is neither Legitimist, nor Conservative, nor Left 
Centre, but a republican who deprecates a republic, he stoutly 
sets up for being a Catholic and rides the hobby of that party 
—freedom in teaching; and yet this man, who wants freedom 
in teaching, is, on the other hand, afraid of the jesuits, and 
still talks, as if we were in 1829, of the encroachments of the 
priestly party and the Congregation. 

‘‘And can you imagine, finally, the great party he proposes 
to form in the Chamber—himself, of course, its leader? That 
of justice, impartiality, and honesty: as if anything of the 
kind were to be found in the parliamentary pottage, or as if 
every shade of opinion had not, from time immemorial, 
flourished that flag to conceal its ugly emptiness ?”’ 

‘¢So that he gives up sculpture once and for all?’’ said Jo- 
seph Bridau. 

‘Not immediately. He is just finishing a statue of some 
female saint, but he will not let anybody see it, and does not 
mean to exhibit it this year. He has notions of his own about 
that, too.” 

‘Which are ?’’ asked Emile Blondet. 

‘‘That religious works ought not to be displayed to the 
judgment of criticism and the gaze of the public cankered by 
skepticism ; that, without confronting the turmoil of the world, 
they ought modestly and piously to take the place for which 
they are intended.”’ 

‘* Bless me!’’ exclaimed Blondet. ‘‘And such a fervent 
Catholic could fight a duel ?”’ 

‘¢ Oh, there is a better joke than that. Catholic as he is, 
he lives with a woman he brought over from Italy, a sort of 
goddess of Liberty, who is at the same time his model and his 
housekeeper.”’ 

‘¢ What a gossip—what a regular inquiry office that Bixiou 
is!’’ they said, as they divided. 





132 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


They had just been asked by Madame de Montcornet to 
accept a cup of tea from her fair hands. 

‘As you see, my dear sir, M. Dorlange’s political aspirations 
are not regarded very seriously, most people thinking of them 
very much as I do myself. I cannot doubt that you will write 
him at once to thank him for his zealous intervention to 
defend you against calumny. His brave devotion has, in fact, 
filled me with sympathy for him, and I should be really glad 
to see you making use of your old friendship for him to hinder 
him from embarking on the thankless tracks he is so eager to 
tread. I am not guided by the thought of the drawbacks at- 
tributed to him by M. Bixiou, who has a sharp and too ready 
tongue ; like Joseph Bridau, I think little of them ; but a mis- 
take that every one must regret, in my opinion, would be to 
abandon a career in which he has already won a high position, 
to rush into the political fray. Sermonize him to this effect, 
and, as much as you can, induce him to stick to Art. In- 
deed, you yourself are interested in his doing so if you are 
stiil bent on his undertaking the work he has so far refused to 
accept. 

In the matter of the personal explanation I advised you to — 
have with him, I may tell you that your task is greatly facili- 
tated. You are not called upon to enter into any of the de- 
tails that might perhaps be too painful. Mme. de 1’Estorade, 
to whom I have spoken of the mediator’s part I proposed that 
she should play, accepts it with pleasure, and undertakes in 
half an hour’s conversation to dissipate the clouds that may 
still hang between you and your friend. 

While writing you this long letter, I sent to inquire for 
him: the report is as good as possible, and the surgeons are 
not in the least uneasy about him, unless some extraordinary 
and quite unforeseen complications should supervene. He is, 
it would seem, an object of general interest ; for, according to 
my servant, people are standing in rows waiting to put their 
names down. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 138 


There is this also to be said—M. de Rhétoré is not liked. 
He is haughty, starchy, and not clever. How different from 
her who dwells in in our dearest memory! She was simple 
and kind, without ever losing her dignity, and nothing could 
compare with the amiability of her temper, unless it were the 
brightness of her wit. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 
Paris, February, 1839. 


Nothing could be better than all you have written, dear 
madame: it was, in fact, highly probable that this annoying 
person would not think twice about speaking to me the next 
time we should meet. His heroism gave him a right to do 
so, and the most ordinary politeness made it incumbent on 
him. Unless he were content to pass for the clumsiest of 
admirers, he could not help asking me how Nais and I had 
recovered from the effects of the accident he had been able to 
forefend. But if, contrary to all expectations, he should per- 
sist in not stepping out of his cloud, I was fully determined to 
act on your wise advice. If the mountain did not come to 
me, I would go to the mountain. Like ‘‘ Hippolyte’’ in 
Théraméne’s tale, I would ‘‘ thrust myself on the monster ’’ 
and fire my gratitude in his teeth. Like you, my dear friend, 
I quite understood that the real danger of this persecution lay 
in its continuance, and the inevitable explosion that threatened 
me sooner or later; the fact that the servants, or the children, 
might at any moment detect the secret; that I should be 
exposed to the most odious inferences if it were suspected by 
others ; and, above all, the idea that if this ridiculous mystery 
should be discovered by M. de 1’Estorade and drive him to 
such lengths as his Southern nature and past experience in the 
army made me imagine only too easily—all this had spurred 
me toa point I cannot describe, and I might have gone further 
even than you advised. I had not only recognized the neces- 
sity for being the first to speak ; but under the pretext that my 


134 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


husband would call to thank him under his own roof, I meant 
to compel him to give me his name and address, and, sup- 
posing he were at all a possible acquaintance, to invite him 
forthwith to dinner, and thus entice the wolf into the sheep- 
fold. 

For, after all, what danger could there be? If he had but 
a shade of commonsense when he saw the terms I live on with 
M. de 1’Estorade, and my ‘‘ maniacal’’ passion for my chil- 
dren, as you call it, in short, the calm regularity of my home- 
life, would he not understand how vain was his pursuit? At 
any rate, whether he should persist or not, his vehemence 
would have lost its perilous out-of-door character. If I was to 
be persecuted, it would, at any rate, be under my own roof, 
and I should only have to deal with one of those common 
adventures to which every woman is more or less liable. And 
we can always get over such slippery places with perfect credit, 
so long as we have a real sense of duty and some little presence 
of mind. 

Not, I must tell you, that I had come to this conclusion 
without a painful effort. When the critical moment should 
come, I was not at all sure that I should be cool enough to 
confront the situation with such a high hand as was indis- 
pensable. However, I had fully made up my mind; and— 
you know me—what I have determined on I do. 

Well, my dear madame, all this fine scheme, all my elaborate 
courage, and your not less elaborate foresight, are entirely 
wasted. Since your last letter the doctor has let me out of 
his hands. I have been out several times, always majestically 
surrounded by my children, that their presence, in case I 
should be obliged to take the initiative, might screen the 
crudity of such a proceeding. But in vain have I scanned 
the horizon on all sides out of the corner of my eve, nothing, 
absolutely nothing, has been visible that bore the least re- 
semblance to a deliverer or a lover. What, now, do you say 
to this new state of affairs? A minute since I spoke of thrust- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 135 


ing myself on the monster. How was I to interpret this 
absence? Had he, with admirable perspicacity, scented the 
snare in which we meant to entrap him, and was he prudently 
keeping out of the way ? 

But if this were so, he would be really a man to think 
seriously about; my dear M. de 1’Estorade, you must take 
care of yourself! 

You see, my dear friend, I am trying to take the matter 
lightly, but in my heart of hearts I believe that I sing to 
keep my courage up. This skillful and unexpected strategy 
leaves me wondering. 

As to my feeling for the man, you will not misunderstand 
that. He saved my little girl, it is true, but merely to lay me 
under an obligation. He is ugly; but there is something 
vigorous and strongly marked about him which leaves an im- 
pression on the mind; one fancies that he must have some 
powerful and dominating characteristics. So, do what I will, 
I cannot hinder his occupying my mind. Now, I feel as if I 
had got rid of him altogether. Well, may I say it? Iam 
conscious of a void. I miss him as the ear misses a sharp and 
piercing sound that has annoyed it for a long time. 

What I am going to add will strike you as very childish, 
but can we control the mirage of our fancy? I have often 
told you of my discussions with Louise de Chaulieu as to the 
way in which women should deal with life. For my part, I 
always told her that the frenzy with which she never ceased 
to seek the Infinite was quite ill-regulated and fatal to happi- 
ness. And she would answer: ‘‘ You, my dearest, have never 
loved. Love implies a phenomenon so rare, that we may 
live all our life without meeting the being on whom nature 
has bestowed the faculty of giving us happiness. If on some 
glorious day that being appears to wake your heart from its 
slumbers, you will take quite another tone.”’ 

The words of those doomed to die are so often prophetic! 
Supposing this man should be the serpent, though late, that 


136 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Louise seemed to threaten me with; good heavens! That 
he should ever represent a real danger, that he should ever be 
able to tempt me from my duty, there is certainly no fear. I 
am confidently strong as to any such extreme of ill. I 
say to you, as Monsieur, Louis XIV.’s brother, said to his 
wife when he brought her papers he had just written, for her 
to decipher them: ‘‘See clearly for me, dear madame, read 
my heart and brain; disperse the mists, allay the antagonistic 
impulses, the ebb and flow of will which these events have 
given rise to in my mind.’’ Was not my dear Louise mis- 
taken? Am not one of those women on whom love, in her 
sense, has no hold? The “ Being who on some glorious day 
awoke my heart from its slumbers’? was my Armand—my 
René—my Nais, three angels for whom and in whom I have 
hitherto lived; and for me, I feel, there never can be any 
other passion. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


Paris, March, 1839. 

In about the year 1820, two ‘‘ new boys,’’ to use my son 
Armand’s technical slang, joined the school at Tours in the 
same week. One had a charming face; the other might have 
been called ugly, but that health, honesty, and intelligence 
beamed in his features and made up for their homeliness and 
irregularity. And here you will stop me, dear madame, asking 
me whether I have quite gotten over my absorbing idea, that 
I am in the mood to write you a chapter of a novel? Not at 
all, and this strange beginning, little as it may seem so, is 
only the continuation and sequel of my adventure. So I beg 
you to listen to my tale and not to interrupt. To proceed: 
Almost from the first, the two boys formed a close friendship ; 
there was more than one reason for their intimacy. One of 
them—the handsome lad—was dreamy, thoughtful, even a 
little sentimental ; the other eager, impetuous, always burning 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 137 


for action. Thus their two characters supplemented each 
other—the best possible combination for any union that is to 
prove lasting. Both, too, had the same stain on their birth. 
The dreamy boy was the son of the notorious Lady Dudley, 
born in adultery ; he was known as Marie-Gaston, which can 
hardly be called aname. The other, whose father and mother 
were both unknown, was called Dorlange—which is not a 
name at all. Dorlange, Valmon, Volmar, Derfeuil, Melcourt, 
these are all names adopted for the stage, and that only in the 
old-fashioned plays, where they dwell now in company with 
Arnolphe, Alceste, Clitandre, Damis, Eraste, Philinte, and 
Arsinoé. So another reason why these unhappy no-man’s- 
sons should cling together for warmth was the cruel desertion 
from which thev both suffered. During the seven mortal years 
of their life at school, not once for a single day, even in holiday 
time, did the prison doors open to let them out. At long in- 
tervals Marie-Gaston hada visitor in the person of an old 
nurse who had served his mother. Through this woman’s 
hands came the quarterly payment for his schooling. 

The money paid for Dorlange came with perfect regularity 
from some unknown source through a banker at Tours. One 
thing was observed—that this youth’s weekly allowance was 
fixed at the highest sum permitted by the college rules, whence 
it was concluded that his anonymous parents were rich. Owing 
to this, but yet more to the generous use he made of his money, 
Dorlange enjoyed a certain degree of consideration among his 
companions, though he could in any case have commanded it 
by the prowess of his fist. At the same time, it was remarked, 
but not loud enough for him to hear, that no one had ever 
asked to see him in the parlor, nor had anybody outside the 
house ever taken the smallest interest in him. 

And the two boys worked, each after his own fashion. At 
the age of fifteen, Marie-Gaston had produced a volume of 
verse: satires, elegies, meditations, to say nothing of two 
tragedies. As for Dorlange, his studies led him to steal fire- 


138 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


logs ; out of these, with his knife, he carved virgins, grotesques, 
schoolmasters and saints, grenadiers, and—in secret—figures 
of Napoleon. 

In 1827 their school days ended ; the friends left the college 
of Tours together, and both were sent to Paris. A place had 
already been secured for Dorlange in Bosio’s studio, and 
thenceforward a certain amount of caprice was discernible in 
the occult Providence that watched over him. On arriving 
at the house to which the master of the college had directed 
him on leaving, he found pleasant rooms prettily furnished for 
him. Under the glass shade over the clock a large letter, 
addressed to him, had been so placed as to strike his eye at 
once. Within the envelope he found a note in these words— 

‘©The day after your arrival in Paris, go, at eight in the 
morning precisely, to the garden of the Luxembourg, Allée 
de 1l’Observatoire, the fourth bench on the right-hand side 
from the gate. This is imperative. Do not on any account 
fail.’”’ 

Dorlange was punctual, as may be supposed, and had not 
waited long when he was joined by a little man, two feet high, 
who, with his enormous head and thick mop of hair, his 
hooked nose and chin and crooked legs, might have stepped 
out of one of Hoffmann’s fairy tales. Without a word—for to 
his personal advantages, this messenger added that of being 
deaf and dumb—he placed in the youth’s hands a letter and a 
purse. The letter said that Dorlange’s family were much 
pleased to find that he had a disposition for the fine arts. He 
was urged to work hard and profit by the teaching of the great 
master under whose tuition he was placed. He would, it was 
hoped, be steady, and an eye would be kept on his behavior. 
On the other hand, he was not to forego the rational amuse- 
ments suited to his age. For his needs and his pleasures he 
might count on asum of twenty-five louis, which would be 
paid to him every three months at this same place, by the 
same messenger. With regard to this emissary, Dorlange was 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 189 


expressly forbidden to follow him when he departed after ful- 
filling his errand. In case of disobedience, either direct or 
indirect, the penalty was serious—no less, in fact, than the 
withdrawal of all assistance, and complete desertion. 

Now, my dear friend, do you remember that in 1831 I 
carried you off to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, where, at 
that time, the exhibition used to be held of works com- 
peting for the first prize in sculpture? The subject set for 
the competition had appealed to my heart—Nuiobe weeping 
over her children. And do you remember my fury at the 
work sent in by one of the competitors, round which there 
was acrowd so dense that we could scarcely get near it? The 
insolent wretch had made game of the subject. His Niobe, 
indeed, as I could not but agree with you and the public, was 
most touching in her beauty and grief; but to have repre- 
sented her children as so many monkeys, lying on the ground 
in the most various and grotesque attitudes—what a deplorable 
waste of talent! It was in vain that you insisted in pointing out 
how charming the monkeys were—graceful, witty—and that 
it was impossible to laugh more ingeniously at the blindness 
and idolatry of mothers who regard some hideous brat as a 
masterpiece of Nature’s handiwork. I considered the thing a 
monstrosity ; and the indignation of the older academicians, 
who demanded the solemn erasure of this impertinent work 
from the list of competing sculpture, was, in my opinion, 
wholly justified. Yielding, however, to public opinion and 
to the papers, which spoke of raising a subscription to send 
the sculptor to Rome if the Grand Prix* were given to any- 
body else, the Academy did not agree with me and with its 
elders. The remarkable beauty of the Niobe outweighed all 
else, and this slanderer of mothers found his work crowned. 
though he had to take a pretty severe lecture which the sec- 
retary was desired to give him on the occasion. Unhappy 
youth! I can pity him now, for he had never known a 


* First Prize. 


140 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


mother. He was Dorlange, the youth abandoned at the 
school at Tours, and Marie-Gaston’s friend. 

For four years, from 1827 till 1831, when Dorlange was 
sent to Rome, the two young men had never parted. Dor- 
lange, with his allowance of two thousand four hundred francs, 
always punctually paid by the hand of the mysterious dwarf, 
was a sort of Marquis d’Aligre. Marie-Gaston, on the con- 
trary, if left to his own resources, would have lived in great 
penury ; but between persons who truly care for each other, a 
rarer case than is commonly supposed, on one side plenty, 
and on the other nothing, is a determining cause of their 
alliance. Without keeping any score, our two pigeons had 
everything in common—home, money, troubles, pleasures, 
and hopes; the two lived but one life. Unfortunately for 
Marie-Gaston, his efforts were not, like his friend’s, crowned 
with success. His volume of verse, carefully recast and re- 
vised, with other poems from his pen and two or three dramas, 
all, for lack of good-will on the part of stage-managers and 
publishers, remained in obscurity. At last the firm of two, 
by Dorlange’s insistency, took strong measures: by dint of 
strict economy, the needful sum was saved to print and bring 
out avolume. The title—‘‘ Snowdrops ’’—was attractive ; the 
binding was pearl-gray, the margins broad, and there was a 
pretty title-page designed by Dorlange. But the public was 
as indifferent as the publishers and managers—it would neither 
buy nor read; so much so, that one day when the rent was 
due, Marie-Gaston, in a fit of despair, sent for an old-book 
buyer, and sold him the whole edition for three sous a volume, 
whence a perfect crop of ‘‘Snowdrops’’ was ere long to be 
seen on every stall along the quays from the Pont Royal to 
the Pont Marie. 

This wound was still bleeding in the poet’s soul when it 
became necessary for Dorlange to set out for Rome. Life in 
common was no longer possible. Being informed by the mys- 
terious dwarf that his allowance would be paid to him as usual 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 141 


in Rome, through Torlonia’s bank, it occurred to Dorlange to 
offer Marie-Gaston the fifteen hundred francs a year granted 
him on the royal scholarship for the five years while he should 
remain in Rome. Buta heart noble enough to receive a favor 
is rarer even than that which can bestow one. Marie-Gaston, 
embittered by constant reverses, had not the necessary courage 
to meet this sacrifice half-way. The dissolution of partnership 
too plainly exposed the position of a dependent which he had 
hitherto accepted. Some trifling work placed in his hands by 
the great writer Daniel d’Arthez added to his little income 
would, he said, be enough to live on, and he peremptorily 
refused what his pride stigmatized as charity. 

Marie-Gaston’s poverty increased day by day ; and prompted 
by inexorable necessity, he had drifted into a most painful 
position. He had tried to release himself from the constant 
pinch of want, which paralyzed his flight, by staking every- 
thing for all or nothing. He imprudently mixed himself up 
in the concerns of a newspaper, and then, to obtain a ruling 
voice, took upon himself almost all the expenses of the under- 
taking. Thus led into debt for a sum of not less than thirty 
thousand francs, he saw nothing before him but a debtor’s 
prison opening its broad jaws to devour him. 

At this juncture he met Louise de Chaulieu. For nine 
months, the blossoming time of their marriage, Marie-Gaston’s 
letters were few and far between, and those he wrote were 
high treason to friendship. Dorlange ought to have been the 
first person told, and he was told nothing. That most high 
and mighty dame, Louise de Chaulieu, Baronne de Macumer, 
would have it so. When the day of the marriage arrived, her 
passion for secrecy had reached a pitch bordering on mania. 
I, her closest friend, was scarcely allowed to know it, and noone 
was admitted to the ceremony. To comply with the require- 
ments of the law, witnesses were indispensable; but at the 
time when Marie-Gaston invited two friends to do him this 
service, he announced that their relations must be finally but 


142 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


amiably put anend to. His feelings toward everybody but 
his wife, whom he exalted to a pure abstraction, ‘‘ would be,’’ 
he wrote to Daniel d’Arthez, ‘‘ friendship independent of the 
friend.”’ 

As for Louise, she, I believe, for greater security, would 
have had the witnesses murdered on leaving the mairie, but 
for a wholesome fear of the public prosecutor ! 

In 1836, when the sculptor came back from Rome, the 
sequestration of Marie-Gaston was closer and more unrelaxing 
than ever. Dorlange had too much spirit to steal or force his 
way into the sanctuary where Louise had sheltered her crazy 
passion, and Marie-Gaston was too desperately in love to 
break the spell and escape from Arminda’s garden. The 
friends, incredible as it must seem, never met, nor even ex- 
changed notes. Still, on hearing of Madame Marie-Gaston’s 
death, Dorlange forgot every slight and rushed off to Ville- 
d’Avray to offer what consolation he might. Vain devotion. 
Within two hours of the melancholy ceremony, Marie-Gaston 
was in a post-chaise flying south to Italy, with no thought for 
his friend, or a sister-in-law and two nephews, who were 
dependent on him. Dorlange thought this selfishness of grief 
rather too much to be borne; and he eradicated from his 
heart, as he believed, the last remembrance of a friendship 
which even the breath of sorrow had not revived. 

A few weeks since, his sorrow, still living and acute, sug- 
gested an idea to his mind. In the middle of the park at 
Ville-d’Avray there is a small lake, and in the middle of the 
lake an island of which Louise was very fond. To this island, 
a calm and shady retreat, Marie-Gaston wished to transfer his 
wife’s remains, and he wrote us from Carrara to this effect. 
And then, remembering Dorlange, he begged my husband to 
call on him and inquire whether he would undertake to exe- 
cute a monument. Dorlange at first affected not even to 
remember Marie-Gaston’s name, and under a civil pretext 
refused the commission. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 143 


But here comes a startling instance of the strength of old 
association in an affectionate nature, On the evening of the 
day when he had shown out M. de 1’Estorade, being at the 
opera, he overheard the Duc de Rhétoré speak slightingly 
of his old friend, and took the matter up with eager indigna- 
tion. Hence a duel, in which he was wounded—and of 
which the news must certainly have reached you; so here is a 
man risking his life for an absentee whom he had strenuously 
denied in the morning. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


Paris, March, 1839. 


I derived the main facts of the long biographical notice I 
sent you, my dear friend, from a recent letter written by M. 
Marie-Gaston. On hearing of the heroic devotion of which 
he had been the object, his first impulse was to hasten to 
Paris and see the friend who had made such a noble return 
for his faithlessness. Unluckily, the day before he should 
have started, a painful hindrance interfered. By a singular 
coincidence, while M. Dorlange was wounded in his behalf in 
Paris, he himself, visiting Savarezza—one of the finest marble 
quarries that are worked at Carrara—had a bad fall and 
sprained his leg. Being obliged to put off his journey, he 
wrote to M. Dorlange from his bed of suffering to express his 
gratitude. 

By the same mail I also received a voluminous letter: M. 
Marie-Gaston, after telling me all the past history of their 
friendship, begged me to call on his old schoolfellow and 
advocate his cause. In point of fact, he could not be satis- 
fied with this convincing proof of the place he still held in 
M. Dorlange’s affections. What he desires is to prove that, 
in spite of evidence to the contrary, he has never ceased to 
deserve it. This is a matter of some little difficulty, because 
he would not on any account consent to attribute the blame 


144 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


to the real author of the mischief. This, however, is the 
whole secret of his conduct to M. Dorlange. His wife was 
bent on having him entirely to herself, and insisted, with 
extraordinary perversity, on uprooting every other feeling. 
But nothing would persuade him to admit this, er the sort of 
moral mediocrity which such ill-regulated and frenzied jeal- 
ousy denotes. 

My first idea, to this end, was to write a note to his friend 
the sculptor and beg him to call on me. But, on second 
thoughts, he has hardly yet got over his wound, and beside, 
this kind of convocation with a definite object in view would 
give an absurd solemnity to my part as a go-between. I 
thought of another plan. Anybody may visit an artist’s 
studio: without any preliminary announcement I could call 
on M. Dorlange with my husband and Nais, under pretense 
of reiterating the request already put to him to give us the 
benefit of his assistance. And by seeming to bring my femi- 
nine influence to bear on this matter, I had a bridge ready 
made to lead me to the true point of my visit. 

So, on the day after I had come to this happy conclusion, 
I and my escort found our way to a pleasant little house in 
the Rue de 1’Ouest, behind the gardens of the Luxembourg, 
one of the quietest parts of Paris. In the vestibule and pas- 
sages, fragments of sculpture, bas-reliefs, and inscriptions, 
nicely arranged against the walls, showed the owner’s good 
taste and betrayed his habitual interests, 

We were met on the steps by a woman to whom M. de 
]’Estorade has already alluded. ‘The student from Rome, it 
would seem, could not come away from Italy without bringing 
some souvenir. ‘This beautiful Italian, a sort of middle-class 
Galatea, sometimes housekeeper and sometimes a model, repre- 
senting at once Home and Art, fulfills in M. Dorlange’s 
household—if scandal is to be trusted—the most perfect ideal 
of the ‘* woman-of-all-work ’’ so constantly advertised in news- 


papers. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 145 


While this handsome housekeeper announced M. le Comte 
and Mme. la Comtesse de 1’Estorade, M. Dorlange, in a 
picturesque studio jacket, having his back to us, hastily drew 
a green baize curtain in front of the statue he was working on. 

The instant he turned round, before I had had time to be- 
lieve my eyes, imagine my astonishment at seeing Nais rush 
up to him and almost into his arms, exclaiming with childish 
glee— 

‘Oh! you are the gentleman who saved me !’’ 

What—the gentleman who had saved her? Why, then, M. 
Dorlange must be that much-talked-of Unknown ? 

Now you say: 

‘*And you, my dear countess, rushing thus into his studio 
like la 

My dear madame, don’t speak of it! Startled, trembling, 
red and white by turns, I must for a moment have looked an 
image of awkward confusion. 

Happily, my husband launched at once into elaborate com- 
pliments as a happy and grateful father. I, meanwhile, had 
time to recover myself ; and when it came to my turn to speak, 
I had composed my features to one of my finest expressions 
a l’Estorade, as you choose to call them; I then, as you 
know, register twenty-five degrees below zero, and should 
freeze the words on the lips of the most ardent adorer, 

‘¢Madame,”’ said the sculptor, ‘‘since we are better ac- 
quainted than we had any reason to suppose, may I be per- 
mitted to indulge my curiosity oad 

I fancied I felt the cat’s claw extended to play with the 
mouse, so I replied: 

‘¢ Artists, if I am not mistaken, are sometimes very indis- 
creetly curious a 

And I emphasized my meaning with a marked severity 
which I hoped would give it point. But my man was not 
abashed. 

“‘T hope that will not prove to be the case with my in- 

10 











146 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


quiry,’’ said he. ‘I only wanted to know if you have a 
sister ?’’ 

‘*Well done,’’ thought I. ‘A way out of the difficulty ! 
The game he means to play is to ascribe his persistent perse- 
cution to some fancied resemblance.’’ 

But though I should very willingly have given him that 
loophole in M. de l’Estorade’s presence, I was not free to tell 
him a lie. 

‘No, monsieur,’’ replied I, ‘‘I have no sister—at any rate, 
not to my knowledge.”’ 

And I said it with an air of superior cunning so as to make 
sure of not being taken for a dupe. 

‘*At any rate,’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘‘it was not impossible 
that my idea was a true one. The family, among whom I 
once met a lady strikingly like you, is involved in an atmos- 
phere of mystery which allows every possible hypothesis.”’ 

«¢ And am I indiscreet in asking their name? ”’ 

‘*Not in the least. They are people you may perhaps have 
known in Paris in 1829-30. ‘They kept house in great style, 
and entertained magnificently. I met them in Italy.’’ 

‘But their name?”’ said I, with a determination that was 
not prompted, I own, by any charitable motive. 

‘‘Lanty,’’* said M. Dorlange, without any hesitation or 
embarrassment. 

There was, in fact, a family of that name in Paris before I 
came to live here, and you, like me, may remember hearing 
some strange tales about them. 

As he answered the question, the sculptor went up to the 
veiled statue. 

‘‘T have taken the liberty, madame, of giving you the sister 
you never had,’’ he said, rather abruptly, ‘‘and I make so 
bold as to ask you if you do not yourself discern a family 
likeness ?”’ 

At the same time he pulled away the baize which hid the 


* Vide ‘ Sarrasine.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 147 


work, and then, my dear madame, I beheld myself, in the 
guise of a saint, crowned with a glory. How, I ask you, 
could I be angry? On seeing the startling likeness that 
really stared them in the face, my husband and Nais exclaimed 
with admiration. 

As for M. Dorlange, he proceeded without delay to explain 
this rather dramatic surprise. 

‘¢ This statue, ’’ said he, ‘‘is a Sainte-Ursule, a commission 
from a convent in the country. In consequence of circum- 
stances too long to relate, the features of the young lady I 
mentioned just now remain deeply stamped on my memory. 
I began, therefore, to model it from memory; but one day, 
madame, in the church of St. Thomas-d’Aquin, I saw you, 
and I was so superstitious as to believe that Providence had 
sent you to me as a duplicate for my benefit. From that time 
you were the model from which I worked ; and as I could not 
think of asking you to come and sit to me in my studio, I 
availed myself, as far as possible, of every chance of meeting 
you. If by any mischance you had happened to notice my 
persistency in crossing your path, you would have taken me 
for one of those idlers who hang about in hope of an adven- 
ture, and I was nothing worse than a conscientious artist, 
prenant son bien ou il le trouve, like Moliére, making the most 
of my chances, and trying to find inspiration in Nature alone, 
which always gives the best results.’’ 

‘¢Oh, I had noticed you following us,’’ said Nais, with an 
all-knowing air. 

Children! my dear madame—does any one understand 
them? Nais had seen all; at the time of her accident it 
would have been natural that she should say something to her 
father or to me about this gentleman, whose constant presence 
had not escaped her notice—and yet, not a word. Brought 
up as she has been by me with such constant care, and hardly 
ever out of my sight, I am absolutely certain of her perfect 
innocence. Then it must be supposed that Nature alone can 


148 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


give a little girl of thirteen an instinctive knowledge of cer- 
tain secrets. Is it not terrible to think of? 

But husbands! my dear madame, husbands are what are 
so truly appalling when, at unexpected moments, we find 
them abandoned to a sort of blind predestination. Mine, for 
instance, as it seems to me, ought to have pricked up his ears 
as he heard this gentleman describe how he had dared to take 
me for his model. M. de1’Estorade is not considered a fool ; 
on all occasions he has a strong sense of the proprieties; and 
if ever I should give the least cause, I believe him capable of 
being ridiculously jealous. And yet, seeing his ‘‘ belle Renée,’’ 
as he calls me, embodied in white marble as a saint, threw 
him, as it seems, into such a state of admiration as altered 
him out of all knowledge! 

He and Nais were wholly absorbed in verifying the fidelity 
of the copy; that was quite my attitude, quite my eyes, my 
mouth, the dimples in my cheeks. In short, I found that I 
must take upon myself the part which M. de 1’Estorade had 
quite forgotten, so I said very gravely to this audacious artist— 

‘‘ Does it not occur to you, monsieur, that thus to appro- 
priate without leave—in short, to put it plainly, thus to steal 
a stranger’s features—might strike her, or him, as a rather 
strange proceeding ?”’ 

‘‘Indeed, madame,’’ replied he, very respectfully, ‘¢ my 
fraudulent conduct would never have gone beyond the point 
you yourself might have sanctioned. Though my statue is 
doomed to be buried in a chapel for nuns, I should not have 
dispatched it without obtaining your permission to leave it as 
it was. I could, when necessary, have ascertained your ad- 
dress; and while confessing the fascination to which I had 
succumbed, I should have requested you to come to see the 
work. Then, when you saw it, if a too exact likeness should 
have offended you, I would have said what I now say: witha 
few strokes of the chisel I will undertake to mislead the most 
practiced eye.”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 149 


Diminish the resemblance! ‘That was no part of the pro- 
gramme! My husband, apparently, did not think it close 
enough, for at this moment he turned to M. Dorlange to say, 
with beatific blandness— 

‘*Do not you think, monsieur, that Madame de 1’Estorade’s 
nose is just a little thinner ?”’ 

Thoroughly upset as I was by these unforeseen incidents, I 
should, I fear, have pleaded badly for M. Marie-Gaston ; how- 
ever, at my very first allusion to the subject— 

‘‘T know,’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘all you could say in de- 
fense of the ‘faithless one.’ I do not forgive, but I will 
forget. As things have turned out, I was within an ace of 
being killed for his sake, and it would be really too illogical 
to owe him nowa grudge on old scores. Still, as regards the 
monument at Ville-d’Avray, nothing will induce me to under- 
take it. As I have already explained to M. de 1’Estorade, 
there is an obstacle in the way which grows more definite 
every day; I also consider it contemptible in Marie-Gaston 
that he should persist in chewing the cud of his grief, and I 
have written him to that effect. He must show himself a 
man, and seek such consolation as may always be found in 
study and work.’’ 

The object of my visit was at an end, and for the moment I 
had no hope of penetrating the dark places, on which, how- 
ever, I must throw some light. As I rose to leave, M. Dor- 
lange said— 

‘‘May I hope, then, that you will not insist on any too 
serious disfigurement of my statue?’”’ 

‘*It is my husband rather than I who must answer that 
question. We can reopen it on another occasion, for M. de 
l’Estorade hopes you will do us the honor to return this call.”’ 

M. Dorlange bowed respectful acquiescence, and we came 
away. As he saw us to the carriage, not venturing to offer me 
his arm, I happened to turn round to call Nais, who was 
rashly going up toa Pyrenean dog that lay in the forecourt. 


150 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


I then perceived the handsome housekeeper behind a window- 
curtain, eagerly watching me. Finding herself caught in the 
act, she dropped the curtain with evident annoyance. 
‘‘Well,’’ thought I, ‘‘now this woman is jealous of me! 
Is she afraid, I wonder, that I may become her rival, at least 


- as a model?”’ 


In fact, I came away in a perfectly vile temper. I was 
furious with Nais and with my husband. I could have given 
him the benefit of a scene of which he certainly could have 
made neither head nor tail. 

Now, what do you think of it all? Is this man one of the 
cleverest rogues alive, who all in a moment, to get himself 
out of a scrape, could invent the most plausible fiction? Or 
is he, indeed, an artist and nothing but an artist, who artlessly 
regarded me as the living embodiment of his ideal? 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


Paris, March, 1839. 

Dear MapaME:—M. Dorlange dined with us yesterday. 
My own notion had been to receive him en famille, so as to 
have him under my eye and catechise him at my ease. 
But M. de 1’Estorade, to whom I did not communicate my 
disinterested purpose, pointed out that such an invitation, to 
meet nobody, might be taken amiss. 

‘*We cannot treat him,’’ my husband smilingly added, 
‘as if he were one of our farmers’ sons who came to display 
his sub-lieutenant’s épaulette, and whom we should invite 
quite by himself because we could not send him to the 
kitchen.” 

So to meet our principal guest, we asked M. Joseph Bridau, 
the painter; the Chevalier d’Espard, M. and Mme. de la 
Bastie, and M. de Ronquerolles. When inviting this last gentle- 
man, my husband took care to ask him whether he would 
object to meeting M. de Rhétoré’s adversary—for you know, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, t 151 


no doubt, that the duke chose for his seconds in the duel 
General de Montriveau and M. de Ronquerolles. 

‘‘Far from objecting,’’ he replied, ‘‘I am delighted to 
seize an opportunity of improving my acquaintance with a 
clever man, whose conduct in the affair in which we were 
concerned was in all respects admirable.”’ 

And when my husband told him of the obligation we owe 
to M. Dorlange— 

‘‘Why, the artist is a hero! ’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘If he goes 
on as he has begun, we shall not be able to reach to his 
knees.”’ 

In his studio, with his throat bare so as to give freedom to 
his head, which is a little large for his body, and dressed in a 
most becoming loose Oriental sort of garment, M. Dorlange 
was certainly better looking than in ordinary evening dress. 
At the same time, when he is talking with animation, his face 
lights up, and then his eyes seem to pour out a tide of that 
magnetic fluid of which I had been conscious at our previous 
meetings. Mme. de la Bastie was no less struck by it. 

I forget whether I told you of the object of M. Dorlange’s 
ambition: he proposes to come forward as a candidate on the 
occasion of the next elections. This was his reason for de- 
clining the commission offered him by my husband as repre- 
senting M. Marie-Gaston. Politics, in fact, are an absorbing 
and dominating passion which can scarcely allow a second to 
flourish by its side. Nevertheless, I was bent on studying the 
situation to the bottom, and after dinner I insidiously drew 
my gentleman into one of those /é¢e-a-/éte chats which the 
mistress of a house can generally arrange. After speaking of 
M. Marie-Gaston, our friend in common, of my dear Louise’s 
crazy flights, and my own constant but useless attempts to 
moderate them, after giving him every opportunity and facility 
for opening the battle, I asked him whether his Sainte-Ursule 
was to be sent off soon. 

‘‘It is quite ready to start, madame,’’ said he. ‘But I 


152 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


wait for your permission, your exea¢,; for you to tell me, in 
short, whether or not I am to alter anything in the face.”’ 

‘¢ First tell me this,’’ replied I. ‘‘ Supposing I were to wish 
for any alteration, would such a change greatly injure the 
statue ?’’ 

“It probably would. However little you clip a bird’s 
wings, it is always checked in its flight.”’ 

‘*One more question. Is your statue most like me or she 
other woman ?”? 

‘* You, madame, I need hardly say. You are the present ; 
she is the past.’’ 

‘« But to throw over the past in favor of the present is called, 
as you doubtless are aware, monsieur, by an ugly name. And 
you confess to this evil tendency with a frank readiness that 
is really quite startling.’’ 

‘‘It is true that art can be brutal,’’ said M. Dorlange, 
laughing. ‘‘ Wherever it may find the raw material of a 
creation, it rushes on it with frenzy.’’ 

“‘Art,’’ said I, ‘¢is a big word, under which a world of 
things find refuge! The other day you told me that circum- 
stances, too long to be related, had contributed to stamp on 
your mind, as a constant presence, the features of which mine 
are a reflection, and which have left such an impression on 
your memory. Was not this saying pretty plainly that it was 
not the sculptor alone who remembered them?”’ 

‘‘Indeed, madame, I had not time to explain myself more 
fully. And in any case, on seeing you for the first time, 
would you not have thought it extraordinary if I had assumed 
a confidential tone? . 

‘‘But now?”’ said I audaciously. 

‘‘Even now, unless under very express encouragement, I 
should find it hard to persuade myself that anything in my 
past life could have a special interest for you.’’ 

‘‘But why so? Some acquaintances ripen quickly. Your 
devotion to my Nais is a long step forward in ours. Beside,’’ 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 153 


I added with affected giddiness, ‘‘I love a story beyond all 
things.” 

‘¢ Beside the fact that mine has no end, it has, even to me, 
remained a mystery.”’ 

‘*All the more reason—— Between us, perhaps, we may 
be able to solve it.’’ 

M. Dorlange seemed to consider the matter; then, after a 
short silence, he said— 

‘It is very true; women are clever in discerning faint 
traces in facts or feelings where we men can detect none. 
But this revelation does not involve myself alone, and I must 
be allowed to beg that it remain absolutely between ourselves. 
I do not except even M. de l’Estorade ; a secret ceases to exist 
when once it goes beyond the speaker and the recipient.’’ 

‘©M. de 1’Estorade,’’ said I, ‘‘is so little accustomed to 
hear everything from me, that he never saw a single line of 
my correspondence with Madame Marie-Gaston.”’ 

At the same time I made a mental reservation with refer- 
ence to you, my dear friend; for are you not the keeper of 
my conscience? And to a confessor one must confess all, if 
one is to be judiciously advised. 

Till now M. Dorlange had been standing in front of the 
fireplace, while I sat at the corner. He now took a chair 
close to me, and by way of preamble he said: 

‘¢T spoke to you, madame, of the Lanty family 

At this instant Mme. de la Bastie, as provoking as a shower 
at a picnic, came up to ask me whether I had seen Nathan’s 
new play? Much I cared for anybody else’s comedy when 
absorbed in this drama, in which it would seem I had played 
a pretty lively part! However, M. Dorlange was obliged to 
give up his seat by me, and it was impossible to have him to 
myself any more that evening. 

Nor, in fact, is there anything in this interrupted tale to 
suggest that love played the part I had insinuated. There are 
plenty more ways of stamping a personality on one’s memory ; 


x 


”? 





154 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


and if M. Dorlange did not love the woman of whom I re- 
minded him, what grudge can he have against me who am but 
a sort of second edition? Nor must we overlook that very 
handsome housekeeper ; for, granting that she is but a habit, 
adopted for reasons of commonsense rather than of passion, 
the woman must still be, at any rate in some degree, a fence 
against me. Consequently, dear madame, all the alarms I 
have dinned into your ears would be ridiculous indeed; I 
should somewhat resemble Bélise in ‘‘ Les Femmes Savantes,”’ 
who is haunted by the idea that every one who sees her must 
fall in love with her. 

But I should be only too glad to come to this dull con- 
clusion. : 

Lover or not, M. Dorlange is a man of high spirit and re- 
markable powers of mind; if he does not put himself out of 
court by any foolish aspirations, it will be an honor anda 
pleasure to place him on our list of friends. The service he 
did us predestines him to this, and I should really be sorry to 
seem hard on him. In that case, indeed, Nais would quar- 
rel with me, for she very naturally thinks everything of her 
rescuer. 

In the evening, when he had left— 

‘Mamma, how well M. Dorlange talks!’’ said she, with a 
most amusing air of approval. 

Speaking of Nais, this is the explanation she gives of the 
reserve that disturbed me so much. 

‘‘ Well, mamma,’’ said she, ‘‘I supposed that you would 
have seen him too. But after he stopped the horses, as you 
did not seem to know him, and as he is rather common-look- 
ing, I fancied he was a man a4 

‘*A man—what do you mean ?”’ 

‘¢ Why, yes; the sort of man of which one takes no notice; 
but how glad I was when I found that he was a gentleman! 
You heard me exclaim: ‘Why, you are the gentleman who saved 
me.’ ” 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 155 


Though her innocence is perfect, there is in this explana- 
tion an ugly streak of pride, on which, you may be sure, I 
delivered a fine lecture. This distinction between the man 
and the gentleman is atrocious; but, on the whole, was not 
the child in the right? But if I carry my criticism any 
further, you will be telling me to beware, for that I am al- 
ready catching it from M. Dorlange. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


PaRIs, April, 1839. 

For nearly a fortnight, my dear madame, we heard no more 
of M. Dorlange. Not only did he not think proper to come 
and reopen the confidences so provokingly interrupted by 
Madame de la Bastie, but he did not seem aware that, after 
dining with anybody, a card, at least, is due within the 
week. 

Yesterday morning we were at breakfast, and I had just 
made a remark to this effect, without bitterness, and merely 
by way of conversation, when Lucas, who, as an old servant, 
is somewhat overbold and familiar, made some one throw open 
the door of the dining-room as if in triumph ; and handing a 
note first to M. de l’Estorade, he set down in the middle of 
the table a mysterious object wrapped in tissue paper, which 
at first suggested a decorative dish of some kind. 

‘¢ What in the world is that?’’ I asked Lucas, seeing in his 
face the announcement of a surprise. And I put out my hand 
to tear away the paper. 

‘“¢ Oh, madame, be careful!’’ cried he. ‘‘ It is breakable.’’ 

My husband meanwhile had read the note, which he handed 
to me, saying: ‘‘M. Dorlange’s apology.”’ 

This is what the artist wrote: 

‘* Monsieur le Comte, I fancied I could discern that Mad- 
ame de 1’Estorade gave me permission very reluctantly to 
take advantage of the audacious use I had made of my petty 


156 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


larceny. I have therefore bravely determined to alter my 
work, and at the present moment hardly a likeness is discern- 
ible between ‘the two sisters.’ Still, I could not bear that all 
I had done should be lost to the world, so I had a cast taken 
of Sainte-Ursule’s head before altering it, and made a reduced 
copy, placing it on the shoulders of a charming countess, who 
is not yet canonized, thank heaven ! 

‘The mould was broken after the first copy was taken, and 
that only copy I have the honor to beg you to accept. This 
fact, which was only proper, gives the statuette rather more 
value. Believe me, etc.”’ 

While I was reading, my husband, Lucas, Nais, and René 
had been very busy extracting me from my wrappings; and 
behold, from a saint I had been converted into a lady of 
fashion, in the shape of a lovely statuette elegantly dressed. I 
thought that M. de l’Estorade and the two children would go 
crazy with admiration. The news of this wonder having 
spread through the house, all the servants—whom we certainly 
spoil—came in one after another, as if they had been invited, 
and each in turn exclaimed—‘‘ How like madame!”’ I quote 
only the leading theme, and do not remember every stupid 
variation. 

L’Estorade said: ‘On my way to the Exchequer office I 
will look in on M. Dorlange. If he is disengaged this even- 
ing, I will ask him to dine here. Armand, whom he has not 
yet seen, will be at home; thus he will see all the family to- 
gether, and you can express your thanks,’’ 

I did not approve of this family dinner; it seemed to me to 
place M. Dorlange on a footing of intimacy which this fresh 
civility again warned me might be dangerous. When I raised 
some little difficulty, M. de l’Estorade remarked— 

‘Why, my dear, the first time we invited him, you wanted 
to ask him only, which would have been extremely awkward, 
end now, that it is perfectly suitable, you are making objec- 
tions !’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 157 


To this argument, which placed me entirely in the wrong, 
I could make no reply, except saying to myself that hus- 
bands are sometimes very clumsy. 

He also contrived to vex me on another point, on which, 
as you know, Iam never amenable. At dinner M. de 1’Esto- 
rade reverted to the subject of the elections, disapproving 
more than ever of M. Dorlange as a candidate, though no 
longer thinking it ridiculous; this led to a political discus- 
sion. Armand, who isa very serious person, and reads the 
newspapers, joined in the conversation. Unlike most lads of 
the present day, he shares his father’s opinions, that is to say, 
he is strongly Conservative—indeed, rather in excess of that 
wise moderation which is very rare, no doubt, at sixteen. 

Without being rude, M. Dorlange seemed to scorn the idea 
of discussing the matter with the poor boy, and he rather 
sharply reminded him of his school uniform ; so much so, 
that I saw Armand ready to lose his temper and answer 
viciously. As he is quite well bred, I had only to give him 
a look, and he controlled himself; but seeing him turn 
crimson and shut himself up in total silence, I felt that his 
pride had been deeply wounded, and thought it ungenerous 
of M. Dorlange to have crushed him by his superiority. I 
know that in these days all children want to be of importance 
too soon, and that it does them no harm to interfere now and 
then and hinder them from being men of forty. But Armand 
really has powers of mind and reason beyond his age. 

Do you want proof? 

Until last year I would never part from him; he went to 
the Collége Henri IV. as a day scholar. Well, it was he who, 
for the benefit of his studies, begged to be placed there as a 
boarder, since the constant going to and fro inevitably inter- 
fered with his work ; and to be allowed, as a favor, to shut him- 
self up under the ferule of an usher, he exhausted more argu- 
ments, and wheedled me with more coaxing, than most boys 
would have used to obtain the opposite result. Thus the 


) 


158 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


grown-up manner, which in many schoolboys is intolerably 
absurd, in him is the evident result of natural precocity, and 
this precocity ought to be forgiven him, since it is the gift of 
God. M. Dorlange, owing to the misfortune of his birth, is 
less able than most men to enter into the feelings of boys, so, 
of course, he is deficient in indulgence. But he had better 
be careful! This is a bad way of paying his court to me, 
even on the most ordinary footing of friendship. 

Being so small a party, I could not, of course, revert to the 
history ne had to tell me; but I did not think that he was 
particularly anxious to recur to the subject. In fact, he was 
less attentive to me than to Nais, for whom he cut out black 
paper figures during an hour or more. It must also be said 
that Madame de Rastignac came in the way, and that I had 
to give myself up to her visit. While I was talking to her by 
the fire, M. Dorlange, at the other end of the room, was 
making Nais and René stand for their portraits, and they 
presently came exultant to show me their silhouettes, wonder- 
fully like, snipped out with the scissors. 

‘“©Do you know,’’ said Nais in a whisper, ‘‘M. Dorlange 
says he will make a bust of me in marble ?”’ 

All this struck me as in rather bad taste. I do not like to 
see artists who, when admitted to a drawing-room, still carry 
on the business, as it were. They thus justify the aristocratic 
arrogance which sometimes refuses to think them worthy to 
be received for their own sake. 

M. Dorlange went away early; and M. de 1’Estorade got 
on my nerves, as he has done so many times in his life, when 
he insisted on showing out his guest, who had tried to steal 
away unperceived, and J heard him desire him to repeat his 
visits less rarely, that I was always at home in the evening. 

The result of this family dinner has been civil war among 
the children. Nais, lauding her dear deliverer to the skies, in 
which she is supported by René, who is completely won over 
by a splendid lancer on horseback, cut out for him by M. Dor- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 159 


lange. Armand, on the contrary, says he is ugly, which is 
indisputable ; he declares he is just like the portraits of Danton 
in the illustrated history of the Revolution, and there is some 
truth in it. He also says that in the statuette he has made me 
look like a milliner’s apprentice, which is not true at all. 


DORLANGE TO MARIE-GASTON. 


Paris, April, 1839. 

Why do I give up my art, and what do I expect to find in 
that ‘‘ galley ’’ called politics ? 

That is what comes, my dear fond lover, of shutting yourself 
up for years in conventual matrimony. The world, mean- 
while, has gone on. Life has brought fresh combinations to 
those whom you shut out, and the less you know of them, the 
readier you are to blame those you have forgotten. Every one 
is clever at patching other people’s affairs. 

You must know, then, my inquisitive friend, that it was not 
of my own accord that I took the step for which you would 
call me toaccount. My unforeseen appearance in the electoral 
breach was in obedience to the desire of a very high personage. 
A father has at last allowed a gleam of light to shine in the 
eternal darkness; he has three parts revealed himself; and, if 
I may trust appearances, he fills a place in society that might 
satisfy the most exacting conceit. 

I spend the evening two or three times a week at the Café 
Greco, the favored haunt of artists, and meet there several 
Roman students, my contemporaries. They have made me 
acquainted with some journalists and men of letters, agreeable 
and superior men, with whom it is both pleasant and profitable 
to exchange ideas, There is a particular corner where we con- 
gregate, and where every question of a serious character is 
discussed and thrashed out; but, as having the most living 
interest, politics especially give rise to the most impassioned 
arguments. In our little club democratic views predominate ; 


160 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


they are represented in the most diverse shades, including the 
Utopia or phalanstery of workers. This willshow you that the 
proceedings of the Government are often severely handled, 
and that unlimited freedom of language characterizes our 
verdicts. 

Rather more than a year ago the waiter said to me: 

‘*You are watched by the police, sir, and you will be wise 
not to talk always open-mouthed like St. Paul.’”’ 

‘* By the police, my good fellow! Why, what on earth can 
it find to watch? All I can say, and a great deal more, is 
printed every morning in the newspapers.”’ 

‘¢That has nothing to do with it. They have an eye on you. 
Ihave seen it. There isa little old man who takes a great deal 
of snuff, and who always sits where he can hear you. When 
you are speaking he listens much more attentively than to any 
of the others, and I even caught him once writing something 
in his pocket-book in signs that were not the alphabet.”’ 

‘‘Very good ; then, next time he comes, show him to me.”’ 

The next time was no further off than the morrow. 

The man pointed out was small and gray-haired, untidy in 
his appearance, and his face, deeply marked by the smallpox, 
was, I thought, that of a man of fifty. And he certainly very 
often took a pinch out of a large snuff-box, and seemed to 
honor my remarks with a degree of attention which I could, 
as I chose, regard as highly complimentary or extremely im- 
pertinent. But of the two alternatives I was inclined to the 
more charitable by the air of honesty and mildness that per. 
vaded this supposed emissary of the police. When I remarked 
on this reassuring aspect to the waiter, who flattered himself 
that he had scented out a secret agent— 

‘*Oh, yes, indeed!’’ said he. ‘‘ Those are the sweet man- 
ners the rats, for so we mostly call them, always put on to 
hide their game.’’ 

Two days after, one Sunday, at the hour of vespers, in the 
course of one of those long walks all across Paris, which you 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 161 


know I always loved, mere chance led me into the church of 
Saint-Louis en l’Ile, the parish church of that God-forsaken 
quarter. The building is not particularly interesting, in spite 
of what some historians have said, and following them, every 
‘*Stranger’s Guide to Paris.’’ I should only have walked 
through it, but that the wonderful talent of the organist who 
was playing the service irresistibly held me. When I tell you 
that the performer came up to my ideal, you will know that is 
high praise ; for you will, I daresay, remember that I draw a 
distinction between organ players and organists—a rank of 
the superior nobility to whom I grant the title only on the 
highest grounds. 

But are not great artists, after all, the real kings by divine 
right? Imagine my amazement when, after waiting a few 
minutes, instead of a perfectly strange face, I saw a man whom 
I at once vaguely recognized, and knew at a second glance 
for my watchful listener of the Café des Arts. Nor was this 
all: at his heels came a sort of spoilt attempt at humanity ; 
and in this misshapen failure, with crooked legs and a thicket 
of unkempt hair, I discerned our old quarterly providence, 
my banker, my money-carrier—in short, our respected friend 
the mysterious dwarf. 

I, you may be sure, did not escape his sharp eye, and I saw 
him eagerly pointing me out to the organist. He instinc- 
tively, and not probably calculating all that would come of 
it, turned quickly to look at me, and then, taking no further 
notice of me, went on his way. The dwarf, meanwhile— 
whom I might recognize as his master’s servant by this single 
detail—went familiarly up to the man who distributed holy 
water and offered him a pinch of snuff; then he hobbled 
away, never looking at me again, and vanished through a door 
in a corner under one of the side-aisles. 

I acted on the spur of the moment and rushed after the 
organist. By the time I had got out of the church door he 
was out of sight, but chance favored me and led me in the 

It 


162 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


direction he had taken ; as I came out on the Quai de Béthune, 
I saw him in the distance knocking at a door. 

I boldly followed and said to the gate-porter— 

“Ts the organist of Saint-Louis en l’Ile within?’”’ 

<¢M, Jacques Bricheteau ?”’ 

‘* Ves, M. Jacques Bricheteau ; he lives here, I think?”’ 

‘*On the fourth floor above the etreso/, the door on the 
left. He has just come in; you may catch him up on the 
stairs.’’ 

Run as fast as I could, by the time I reached my man his 
key was in the lock. 

‘“M. Jacques Bricheteau?’’ I hastily exclaimed. ‘1 have 
the honor, I think sed 

‘*T know no such person,”’ said he coolly, as he turned the 
key. 

‘‘T may be mistaken in the name; but M. the organist of 
Saint-Louis en l’Ile?’’ 

“¢T never heard of any organist living in this house.’’ 

‘‘T beg your pardon, monsieur: there certainly is, for the 
concierge has just told meso. Beside, you are undoubtedly 
the gentleman I saw coming out of the organ loft, accompa- 
nied by a man—I may say ——”’ 

But before I had finished speaking, this strange individual 
had balked me of his company and shut his door in my face. 

I proceeded to pull his bell with some energy, quite deter- 
mined to persist till I knew the reason of this fixed purpose of 
ignoring me. For some little time the besieged party put up 
with the turmoil I was making; but I suddenly remarked that 
the bell had ceased to sound. It had evidently been muffled; 
the obstinate foe would not come to the door, and the only 
way of getting at him would be to beat it in. That, however, 
is not thought mannerly. 

I went down again to the door-porter, who informed me 
that M. Bricheteau was a quiet resident, polite but not com- 
municative ; punctual in paying his rent, but not in easy cir- 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 163 


cumstances, for he kept no servant—not even a maid to clean 
for him, and he never took a meal at home. He was always 
out by ten in the morning, and never came in till the evening, 
and was probably a clerk in an office, or perhaps a music- 
master giving lessons. 

On my return home I persuaded myself that a pathetic 
epistle addressed to my recalcitrant friend would induce him 
to admit me. Seasoning my urgent supplication with a spice 
of intimidation, I gave him to understand that I was im- 
movably bent on penetrating, at any cost, the mystery of my 
birth, of which he seemed to be fully informed. Now that I 
had some clue to the secret, it would be his part to consider 
whether my desperate efforts, blindly rushing against the dark 
unknown, might not entail much greater trouble than the 
frank explanation I begged him to favor me with. 

My ultimatum thus formulated, to the end that it should 
reach the hands of M. Jacques Bricheteau as soon as possible, 
on the following morning, before nine, I arrived at the door. 
But, in a frenzy of secrecy—unless he has some really inex- 
plicable reason for avoiding me—at daybreak that morning, 
after paying the rent for the current term and for a term’s 
notice, the organist had packed off his furniture ; and it is to 
be supposed that the men employed in this sudden flitting 
were handsomely bribed for their silence, since the concierge 
‘could not discover the name of the street whither his lodger 
was moving. The men did not belong to the neighborhood, 
so there was not a chance of unearthing them and paying 
them to speak. 

Still, and in spite of the obstinacy and cleverness of this 
unattainable antagonist, I would not be beaten. I felt there 
was still a connecting thread between us in the organ of Saint- 
‘Louis’ ; so on the following Sunday, before the end of high 
mass, I took up a post at the door of the organ loft, fully de- 
termined not to let the sphinx go till I had made it speak. 
Here was a fresh disappointment: M. Jacques Bricheteau was 


164 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


represented by one of his pupils, and for three Sundays in 
succession it was the same. On the fourth I ventured to 
speak to the substitute and ask him if the maestro were ill. 

‘*No, monsieur, M. Bricheteau is taking a holiday; he will 
be absent for some time, and is away on business.”’ 

‘¢ Where then can I write him?’’ 

**I do not exactly know. Still, I suppose that you can 
write and send to his lodgings, close at hand, Quai de 
Béthune.”’ 

‘*But he has moved. Did you not know?”’ 

‘“No. Indeed! and where is he now living ?”’ 

I was out of luck—asking for information from a man who, 
when I questioned him, questioned me. And as if to drive 
me fairly beside myself, while investigating matters under 
such hopeful conditions, I saw in the distance that confounded 
deaf and dumb dwarf, who positively laughed as he looked at 
me. 

Happily for my impatience and curiosity, which were en- 
hanced by every defeat, and rising by degrees to an almost 
intolerable pitch, daylight presently dawned. A few days 
after this last false scent, a letter reached me; and I, a better 
scholar than the concierge of the Quai de Béthune, at once 
saw that the postmark was Stockholm, Sweden, which did not 
excessively astonish me. When in Rome, I had the honor 
of being kindly received by Thorwaldsen, the great sculptor, 
and I had met many of his fellow-countrymen in his studio— 
some commission perhaps, for which he had recommended 
me—so imagine my surprise and emotion when, on opening 
it, the first words I read were— 

** Monsteur mon fils’’ (my son). 

The letter was long, and I had not patience enough to read 
it through before looking to see whose name I bore. So I 
turned at once to the signature. This beginning, Monsieur 
mon fils, which we often find in history as used by kings when 
addressing their scions, must surely premise aristocratic par- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 165 


entage! My disappointment was great: there was no signa- 
ture. 


‘‘ Monsieur mon fils,’? my anonymous father wrote, ‘I 
cannot regret that your inveterate determination to solve the 
secret of your birth should have compelled the man who 
watched over your youth to come here and confer with me as 
to the steps to which we should be compelled by this danger- 
ous and turbulent curiosity. I have for a long time cherished 
an idea which has now come to maturity, and it has been far 
more satisfactorily discussed in speech than it could have been 
by correspondence. 

‘‘ Being obliged to leave France almost immediately after 
your birth, which cost your mother her life, I made a large 
fortune in a foreign land, and I now fill a high position in the 
Government of this country. I foresee a time when I may 
be free to give you my name, and at the same time to secure 
for you the reversion of the post I hold. But, to rise so high 
as this, the celebrity which, with my permission, you promise 
to achieve in Art would not be a sufficient recommendation. 
I therefore wish you to enter on a political career; and in 
that career, under the existing conditions in France, there are 
not two ways of distinguishing yourself—you must be elected 
a member of the Chamber. You are not yet, I know, of the 
required age, and you have not the necessary qualification. 
But you will be thirty next year, and that is just long enough 
to enable you to become a landed proprietor and prove your 
possession for more than a twelvemonth. On the day after 
receiving this you may call on the Brothers Mongenod, 
bankers, Rue de la Victoire; they will pay you a sum of two 
hundred and fifty thousand francs. This you must at once 
invest in the purchase of a house, and devote any surplus to 
the support of some newspaper which, in due course, will 
advocate your election—after another outlay is met which I 
shall presently explain. 


166 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘Your aptitude for politics is vouched for by the friend 
who has watched over you in your deserted existence, with a 
zeal and disinterestedness that Ican never repay. He has for 
some time followed you and listened to you, and he is con- 
vinced that you would make a creditable appearance in the 
Chamber. Your opinions—Liberal, and at once moderate 
and enthusiastic—meet my views, and you have, unconsciously, 
hitherto played into my hand very successfully. 

‘¢] cannot at present reveal to you the place of your prob- 
able election. It is being prepared with a deep secrecy and 
skill which will be successful in proportion as they are wrapped 
in silence and darkness. However, your success may be, 
perhaps, partly insured by your carrying out a work which I 
commend to your notice, advising you to accept its apparent 
singularity without demur or comment. For the present you 
must still be a sculptor, and you are to employ the talent of 
which you have given evidence in the execution of a statue of 
Sainte-Ursule. The subject does not lack poetry or interest ; 
Sainte-Ursule, virgin and martyr, was, it is generally believed, 
the daughter of a prince of Great Britain. She was martyred 
in the fifth century at Cologne, where she had founded a con- 
vent of maidens known to popular superstition as the Eleven 
Thousand Virgins. She was subsequently taken as the patron 
saint of the Ursuline Sisters, who adopted her name; also of 
the famous house of the Sorbonne. 

‘An artist so clever as you are may, it seems to me, make 
something of all these facts. 

‘‘ Without knowing the name of the place you are to repre- 
sent, it is desirable that you should at once make due profes- 
sion of your political tendencies and proclaim your intention 
of standing for election. At the same time, I cannot too 
earnestly impress on you the need for secrecy as to this commu- 
nication, and for patience in your present position. Leave 
my agent in peace, I beg of you, and setting aside a curiosity 
which, I warn you, will involve you inthe greatest disasters, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 167 


await the slow and quiet development of the splendid future 
that lies before you. By not choosing to conform to my 
arrangement, you will deprive yourself of every chance of being 
initiated into the mystery you are so eager tosolve. However, 
I will not even suppose that you can rebel; I would rather be- 
lieve in your perfect deference to the wishes of a father who 
feels that the happiest day of his life will be that when he is at 
last able to make himself known to you. 


‘*P. S.—As your statue is intended for the chapel of an 
Ursuline convent, it must be in white marble. The height of 
the figure is to be 1.706 metre, or, in other words, five feet 
three inches. As it will not stand in a niche, it must be 
equally well finished on all sides. The cost to be defrayed 
out of the two hundred and fifty thousand francs advised by 
the present letter.’’ 


Of course curiosity took me to the bankers; and, on finding 
at Messrs. Mongenod’s, in hard and ready cash, the two hun- 
dred and fifty thousand francs promised me, I was, I confess, 
pleased. It struck me that the determination which began by 
advancing so large a sum must in fact be serious; since that 
power knew all, and I knew nothing, it seemed to me unrea- 
sonable and inopportune to attempt to struggle. 

I bought the house, I took shares in the ‘‘ National,’’ and I 
found ample encouragement in my political schemes, as well 
as the certainty of a keen contest whenever I should reveal the 
name of the place I meant to stand for—hitherto I have had 
no difficulty in keeping that secret. 

I also executed the Sainte-Ursule, and Iam now waiting for 
further instructions, which certainly seem to me to be a long 
time coming, now that I have loudly proclaimed my ambitions 
and that the stir of a general election is in the air—a fight to 
which I am by no means equal. To obey the instructions of 
paternal caution I need not, I know, ask you to be absolutely 
secret about all I confide to you. Reserve is a virtue which I 


168 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


know you to have brought to such perfection that I need not 
preach it to you. The duel fought on your behalf has found 
me favor in the democracy. 


DORLANGE TO MARIE-GASTON. 


PaRIs, April, 1839. 

My Dear Frienp:—I am still playing my part as best I 
may of a candidate without a constituency. My friends are 
puzzled, and I must confess that I am worried, for there are 
but a few weeks now till the election ; and if all these myste- 
rious preparations end in smoke, a pretty figure I shall cut in 
the eyes of M. Bixiou, whose spiteful comments you reported 
to me not long ago. Still, one thought supports me: It 
seems hardly likely that anybody should sow two hundred and 
fifty thousand francs in my furrow without the definite pur- 
pose of gathering some sort of crop. Possibly, indeed, if I 
could see the thing more clearly, this absence of hurry on the 
part of those who are working for me in such a deliberate and 
underground manner may, in fact, be the result of perfect 
confidence in my success. 

In one word I will paint M. Bixiou—he is envious. There 
was in him unquestionably the making of a great artist ; but 
in the economy of his individuality the stomach has killed 
the heart and head, and by sheer subjection to sensuous appe- 
tite he is now for ever doomed to remain no more than a 
caricaturist, a man, that is to say, who lives from hand to 
mouth, discounts his talent in frittered work, real penal servi- 
tude which enables the man to live jovially, but brings him 
no consideration, and promises him no future ; a man whose 
talent is a mere feeble abortion ; his mind as much as his face 
is stamped with the perpetual, hopeless grimace which human 
instinct has always ascribed to the fallen angels. And just as 
the Prince of Darkness attacks by preference the greatest 
saints, as reminding him most sternly of the angelic heights 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 169 


from which he fell, so M. Bixiou sheds his venom on every 
talent and every character in whose strength, and spirit, and 
purpose he feels the brave resolve not to waste itself as his 
has been wasted. But there is one thing which may reassure 
you as to the outcome of his slander and his abuse—for from 
M. de |’Estorade’s report to you I perceive that he indulges 
in both: namely, at the very time when he fancies he is most 
successfully occupied in a sort of burlesque autopsy of my 
person, he is but a plastic puppet in my hands, a jumping- 
jack of which I hold the string, and into whose mouth I can 
put what words I please. 

Feeling sure that a little advertisement should prepare the 
way for my appearance as a statesman, I looked about me for 
some public criers, deep-mouthed, as Mme. Pernelle would 
say, and well able to give tongue. If among blatant trump- 
eters I could have found one more shrill, more deafeningly 
persistent than the great Bixiou, I would have preferred him. 
I took advantage of the malignant inquisitiveness that takes 
that amiable pest into every studio in turn, to fill himself up 
with information. I told him everything, of my good luck, 
of the two hundred and fifty thousand francs, ascribing them 
to a lucky turn on ’Change, of all my parliamentary schemes, 
to the very number of the house I had purchased. And I am 
much mistaken if that number is not written down somewhere 
in his note-book. 

This, I fancy, is enough to reduce the admiration of his 
audience at the Montcornets’, and prove that this formidable 
magpie is not quite so miraculously and truthfully informed 
on all points. 

As to my political horoscope, which he condescended to 
cast, I cannot say that his astrology, strictly speaking, is far 
from the truth. It is quite certain that by announcing my 
intention of never attempting to keep step with other men's 
opinions I shall attain to the position so clearly set forth by a 
pleader worthy to be the successor of M. de la Palisse: ‘‘ What 


170 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


do you do, gentlemen, to a man whom you place in solitary 
confinement? You isolate him.’’ Isolation, in fact, must at 
first be my lot; and the life of an artist, a solitary life, in 
which a man spins everything out of himself, has predisposed 
me to accept the situation. And if I find myself in conse- 
quence—especially as a beginner—exempt from all lobby anid 
backstairs influences, this may do me good service as a speaker; 
for I shall be able to express myself with unbiased strength 
and freedom. Never being bound by any pledge, by any 
trumpery party interest, there will be nothing to hinder me 
from being myself, or from expressing in their sacred crudity 
any ideas I think wholesome and true. 

I know full well that in the face of an assembled multitude 
these poor truths for truth’s sake do not always get their 
chance of becoming infectious, or even of being respectfully 
welcomed. But have you not observed that by knowing how 
te snatch an opportunity we sometimes hit on a day which 
seems to be a sort of festival of sense and intelligence, when the 
right thing triumphs almost without an effort? On those days, 
in spite of the utmost prejudice in the hearers, the speaker’s 
honesty makes them generous and sympathetic, at any rate 
for the moment, with all that is upright, true, and magnani- 
mous. At the same time, I do not deceive myself; though 
this system of mine may win me some consideration and noto- 
riety as an orator, it is of very little avail in the pursuit of 
office, nor will it gain me the reputation as a practical man 
for which it is now the fashion to sacrifice so much. But if 
my influence at arm’s length should be inconsiderable, I shall 
be heard at a distance, because I shall, for the most part, 
speak out of the window—outside the narrow and suffocating 
atmosphere of parliamentary life, and over the head of its 
petty passions and mean interests. 

This kind of success will be all I need for the purposes my 
benevolent parent seems to have in view. What he appears 
to aim at is that I should makea noise and be heard afar ; 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 171 


and from that side, political life has, I declare, its artistic 
aspect which will not too monstrously jar with my past life. 

Now, to come to another matter—that of my actual or pos- 
sible passion for Mme. de 1’Estorade. This is your very 
judicial epitome of the case: In 1837, when you set out for 
Italy, Mme. de 1’Estorade was still in the bloom of her beauty. 
Leading a life so calm, so sheltered from passion as hers has 
always been, it is probable that the lapse of two years has left 
no deep marks on her; and the proof that time has stood still 
for that privileged beauty you find in my strange and audacious 
persistency in deriving inspiration from it. Hence, if the mis- 
chief is not already done, at any rate you will give me warn- 
ing; there is but one step from the artist’s admiration to the 
man’s, and the story of Pygmalion is commended to my pru- 
dent meditation. 

In the first place, most sapient and learned mythologist, I 
may make this observation: The person principally interested 
in the matter, who is on the spot and in a far better position 
than you to estimate the perils of the situation, has no anxiety 
on the subject. M. de 1’Estorade’s only complaint is that 
my visits are not more frequent, and my reticence is, in his 
eyes, pure bad manners. ‘‘To be sure!’’ you exclaim, ‘‘a 
husband—any husband—is the last to suspect that his wife is 
being made love to!’’ So beit. But what about Mme. de 
!’Estorade, with her high reputation for virtue, and the cold, 
almost calculating reasonableness which she so often brought 
to bear on the ardent and impassioned petulance of another 
lady known to you? And will you not also allow that the 
love of her children, carried to the last degree of fervor, I 
had almost said fanaticism, that we see in women, must in | 
her be an infallible protection? So far, and for her, well and 
good. 

But it is not her peace of mind, but mine, that concerns 
your friendship; for if Pygmalion had failed to animate his 
statue, much good his love would have done him! I might, 


172 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


in reply to your charitable solicitude, refer you to my princi- 
ples—though the word and the thing alike are completely out 
of fashion—to a certain very absurd respect that I have al- 
ways professed for conjugal fidelity, to the very natural obstacle 
to all such levity of fancy raised in my mind by the serious 
responsibilities on which I am embarking. And I might also 
say that, though not indeed by the superiority of my genius, 
at least by every tendency of mind and character, I am one 
of that earnest and serious school of a past time who, regard- 
ing Art as long and Life as short—Ars longa et vita brevis— 
did not waste their time and their creative powers in silly, 
dull intrigues. 

I will here explain the enigma as to Mme. de 1’Estorade: 
In 1835, the last year I spent in Rome, I was on terms of con- 
siderable intimacy with a French Academy student named 
Desroziers. He was a musician, a man of distinguished and 
observant mind, who would probably have made a mark in 
his art if he had not been carried off by typhoid fever the 
year after I left. 

One day when we had taken it into our heads that we would 
travel as far as Sicily, an excursion allowed by the rules of the 
Academy, we found ourselves absolutely penniless, and we 
were wandering about the streets of Rome considering by 
what means we could repair the damage to our finances, when 
we happened to pass by the Braschi palace. The doors stood 
wide open, admitting an ebb and flow of people of all classes 
in an endless tide. . 

‘By the mass!”’ cried Desroziers, ‘‘ this is the very thing 
for us!’’ 

And without any explanation as to whither he was leading 
me, we followed in the stream and made our way into the 
palace. 

After going up amagnificent marble staircase, and through 
a long suite of rooms, poorly enough furnished—as is usual in 
Roman palaces, where all the luxury consists in fine ceilings, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 173 


pictures, statues, and other works of art—we found ourselves 
in a room hung with black and lighted with many tapers. It 
was, as you will have understood, a body lying in state. In 
the middle, on a raised bed covered with a canopy, lay the 
most hideous and grotesque ¢hzémg you can conceive of. Im- 
agine a little old man, with a face and hands withered to such 
a state of desiccation that a mummy by comparison would 
seem fat and well-looking. Dressed in black satin breeches, 
a violet velvet coat of fashionable cut, a white vest embroid- 
ered with gold, and a full shirt frill of English point-lace, this 
skeleton’s cheeks were thickly coated with rouge, which en- 
hanced the parchment yellow of the rest of the skin; and 
crowning a fair wig, tightly curled, it had a huge hat and 
feathers tilted knowingly over one ear, and making the most 
reverent spectator laugh in spite of himself. After glancing 
at this ridiculous and pitiable exhibition, the indispensable 
preliminary to a funeral according to the aristocratic etiquette 
of Rome— 

‘¢There you see the end,”’ said Desroziers. ‘‘ Now, come 
and look at the beginning.”’ 

So saying, and paying no heed to my questions, because he 
wanted to give me a dramatic surprise, he led me off to the 
Albani gallery, and placing me in front of a statue of Adonis 
reclining on a lion’s skin— 

‘¢What do you think of that?”’ said he. 

«¢That!”’ cried I-at a first glance; ‘it is.as fine as an 
antique.”’ 

“Tt is as much an antique as I am,”’ replied Desroziers, and 
he pointed to a signature on the plinth: ‘‘Sarrasine, 1758.”’ 

‘¢ Antique or modern, it is a masterpiece,’’ I said, when I 
had studied this delightful work from all sides. ‘‘ But how 
is this fine statue and the terrible caricature you took me to 
see just now to help us on our way to Sicily ?”’ 

‘‘In your place, I should have begun by asking who and 
what was Sarrasine,’”’ 


174 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUIS. 


‘¢That was unnecessary,’’ replied I. ‘I had already 
heard of this statue. I had forgotten it again, because when 
I came to see it the Albani gallery was closed for repairs—as 
they say of the theatres. Sarrasine, I was informed, was a 
pupil of Bouchardon’s, and, like us, a pensioner on the King 
of Rome, where he died within six months of his arrival.’’ 

‘¢ But who or what caused his death ?”’ 

‘‘Some illness probably,’’ replied I, never dreaming that 
my reply was prophetic of the end of the man I was addressing. 

“‘Not a bit of it,’’ said Desroziers. ‘‘ Artists don’t die in 
such an idiotic way.’’ 

And he gave me the following details: 

Sarrasine, a youth of genius, but of ungovernable passions, 
almost as soon as he arrived in Rome, fell madly in love with 
the principal soprano at the Argentina, whose name was Zam- 
binella. At that time the pope would not allow women to 
appear on the stage in Rome. The difficulty was overcome 
by means well known, and imported from the East. Sarrasine, 
in his fury at finding his love thus cheated, having already 
executed an imaginary statue of this imaginary mistress, was 
on the point of killing the castrate and himself. But the 
singer was under the protection of a great personage, who, to 
be beforehand with him, had cooled the sculptor’s blood by a 
few pricks of the stiletto. Zambinella had not approved of 
this violence, but nevertheless continued to sing at the Argen- 
tina and on every stage in Europe, amassing an enormous 
fortune. 

When too old to remain on the stage, the singer shrank 
into a little old man, very vain, very shy, but as willful and 
capricious as a woman. All the affection of which he was 
capable he bestowed on a wonderfully beautiful niece, whom 
he placed at the head of his household. She was the Madame 
Denis of this strange Voltaire, and he intended that she should 
inherit his vast wealth. The handsome heiress, in love with 
a Frenchman named the Comte de Lanty, who was supposed 


THE DEPUT\ FOR ARCIS. 175 


to be a highly skilled chemist, though, in fact, little was 
known of his antecedents, ad great difficulty in obtaining 
her uncle’s consent to her marriage with the man of her 
choice. And when, weary of disputing the matter, he gave 
in, it was on condition of not parting from his niece. The 
better to secure the fulfillment of the bargain, he gave her 
nothing on her marriage, parting with none of his fortune, 
which he spent liberally on all who were about him. 

Bored wherever he found himself, and driven by a perpetual 
longing for change, the fantastic old man had at different 
times taken up his abode in the remotest parts of the world, 
always dragging at his heels the family party whose respect 
and attachment he had secured at least for life. 

In 1829, when he was nearly a hundred years old, and had 
sunk into a sort of imbecility—though still keenly alive when 
he listened to music—a question of some interest to the Lantys 
and their two children brought them to settle in a splendid 
house in the Faubourg Saint-Honoré. They there received 
all Paris. The world was attracted by the still splendid beauty 
of Madame de Lanty, the innocent charm of her daughter 
Marianina, the really royal magnificence of their entertain- 
ments, and a peculiar flavor of mystery in the atmosphere 
about these remarkable strangers. With regard to the old 
man particularly, comments were endless; he was the object 
of so much care and consideration, but at the same time so 
like a petted captive, stealing out like a spectre into the midst 
of the parties, from which such obvious efforts were made to 
keep him away, while he seemed to find malicious enjoyment 
in scaring the company, like an apparition. 

The gunshots of July, 1830, put this phantom to flight. 
On leaving Paris, to the great annoyance of the Lantys, he 
insisted on returning to Rome, his native city, where his 
presence had revived the humiliating memories of the past. 
But Rome was his last earthly stage; he had just died there, 
and it was he whom we had seen so absurdly dressed out and 


176 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


lying in state in the Braschi palace—he also on whom we 
now looked, in all his youthful beauty, in the Albani collec- 
tion. 

“*You have skill enough to make a copy of this statue, I 
suppose ?’’ said Desroziers. 

‘* At any rate, I like to think so.’’ 

“‘ Well, I am sure of it. Get leave from the curator, and 
set to work forthwith. I know of a purchaser for such a 
copy.” 

‘Why, who will buy it?’”’ 

‘“‘The Comte de Lanty, to be sure. I am giving his 
daughter lessons in harmony; and when I mention in his 
house that I know of a fine copy of this Adonis, they will 
never rest till it belongs to them.”’ 

“* But does not this savor somewhat of extortion? ’”’ 

‘Not in the least. Some time since the Lantys had a 
painting done of it by Vien, as they could not purchase the 
marble; the Albani gallery would not part with it at any 
price. Various attempts have been made at reproducing it in 
sculpture, but all have failed. You have only to succeed, and 
you will be paid enough for forty trips to Sicily, for you will 
have gratified a whim which has become hopeless, and which, 
when the price is paid, will still think itself your debtor.’’ 

Two days later I had begun the work; and as it was quite 
to my mind, I went on so steadily that, three weeks later, the 
Lanty family, all in deep mourning, invaded my studio, under 
Desroziers’ guidance, to inspect a sketch in a forward stage 
of completion. 

Marianina was at that time one-and-twenty. I need not 
describe her, since you know Mme. de 1’Estorade, whom she 
strikingly resembles. This charming girl, already an accom- 
plished musician, had a remarkable talent for every form of 
art. Coming from time to time to my studio to follow the 
progress of my work—which, after all, was never finished, as 
it happened—she, like Princess Marguerite d’Orleans, took a 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 177 


fancy for sculpture, and until the family left Rome—some 
months before I had to come away—Mlle. de Lanty came to 
me for lessons. Nothing could be further from my thoughts 
than any idea of playing the part of Abélard or Saint-Pruex, 
but I may say I was most happy in my teaching. My pupil 
was so intelligent, and so apt to profit by the slightest hint ; 
she had at once such a bright temper and such ripe judgment ; 
her voice, when she sang, went so straight to the heart; and 
I heard so constantly from the servants, who adored her, of 
her noble, generous, and charitable actions, that, but for my 
knowing of her vast fortune, which kept me at a distance, I 
might have run into the danger you are warning me to avoid 
now. 

On my return to Paris, my first visit was to the Hétel 
Lanty. 

Marianina was too well bred, and too sweet by nature, ever 
to make herself disagreeable or to be scornful; but I at once 
perceived that a singularly cold reserve had taken the place 
of the gracious and friendly freedom of her manner. It 
struck me as probable that the liking she had shown me—not, 
indeed, for my person, but for my mind and conversation— 
had been commented on by her family. She had no doubt 
been lectured, and she seemed to me to be acting under strict 
orders, as I could easily conclude from the distant and 
repellent manner of M. and Mme. de Lanty. 

A few months later, at the Salon of 1837, I fancied I saw a 
corroboration of my suspicions. I had exhibited a statue which 
made some sensation; there was always a mob round my 
Pandora. Mingling with the crowd I used to stand zucognito, 
to enjoy my success and gather my laurels fresh. One Friday, 
the fashionable day, I saw from afar the approach of the 
Lanty family. The mother was on the arm of a well-known 
“‘ buck,’’ Comte Maxime de Trailles ; Marianina was with her 
brother; M. de Lanty, who looked anxions, as usual, was alone ; 
and, like the man in the song of Malbrouck, ‘‘ xe portadd 

12 


178 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


rien”’ (wore nothing), carried nothing. Byacrafty manceuvre, 
while the party were pushing their way through the crowd, I 
slipped behind them so as to hear what they thought, without 
being seen. Vi? admirari—think nothing fine—is the natural 
instinct of every man of fashion; so, after a summary inspec- 
tion of my work, M. de Trailles began to discover the most 
atrocious faults, and his verdict was pronounced in a loud 
and distinct voice, so that his dictum could not be lost on 
anybody for some little distance round. Marianina, thinking 
differently, listened to this profound critic with a shrug or 
two of her shoulders; then when he ceased— 

‘* How fortunate it is!’’ said she, ‘‘ that you should have 
come with us! But for your enlightened judgment I should 
have been quite capable, like the good-natured vulgar, of 
thinking this statue beautiful. It is really a pity that the 
sculptor should not be here to learn his business from you.”’ 

‘¢ But that is just where he is, as it happens, behind you,”’ 
said a stout woman, with a loud shout of laughter—an old 
woman who kept carriages for hire, and to whom I had just 
nodded as the owner of the house in which I have my studio. 

Instinct was prompter than reflection ; Marianina involun- 
tarily turned round. On seeing me, a faint blush colored her 
face. I hastily made my escape. 

A girl who could so frankly take my part, and then betray 
so much confusion at being discovered in her advocacy, would 
certainly not be displeased to see me; and though at my first 
visit I had been so coldly received, having now been made 
chevalier of the Legion of Honor, in recognition of my ex- 
hibited work, I determined to try again. The distinction 
conferred on me might possibly gain me a better reception 
from the haughty Comte de Lanty. 

I was admitted by an old servant for whom Marianina had 
great regard. 

‘* Ah, monsieur,’’ said he, ‘ terrible things have been hap- 
pening here!’”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 179 


‘¢Why—what ?”’ cried I anxiously. 

‘¢T will take in your name, sir,’’ was his only reply. 

A minute later I was shown into M. de Lanty’s study. 

The man received me without rising, and greeted me with 
these words— 

‘‘T admire your courage, monsieur, in showing yourself in 
this house ! ’’ 

‘«But I have not been treated here, as yet, in a way that 
should make me need any great courage.”’ 

“You have come, no doubt,’’ M. de Lanty went on, ‘to 
fetch the object you so clumsily allowed to fall into our hands. 
I will return you that elegant affair.’’ 

He rose and took out of his writing-table drawer a dainty 
little pocket-book, which he handed to me. 

As I looked at it in blank amazement— 

‘¢QOh, the letters, to be sure, are not there,’’ he said. ‘I 
supposed that you would allow me to keep them.’’ 

“‘ This pocket-book—letters ? The whole thing is a riddle 
to me, monsieur.’’ 

At this moment Mme. de Lanty came in. 

‘¢What do you want ?’’ asked her husband roughly. 

‘‘T heard that M. Dorlange was here,’’ said she, ‘‘ and I 
fancied that there might be some unpleasant passages between 
you and him. I thought it my duty, as a wife, to interpose.”’ 

‘‘ Your presence, madame,”’ said I, ‘‘ is not needed to im- 
pose perfect moderation on me; the whole thing is the result 
of some misunderstanding.”’ 

‘*Qh, this is really too much!’”’ cried M. de Lanty, going 
again to the drawer from which he had taken the pocket- 
book. And rudely pushing into my hands a little packet of 
letters tied up with pink ribbon, he went on: ‘ Now, I im- 
agine the misunderstanding will be cleared up.”’ 

I looked at the letters; they had not been through the 
post, and were all addressed ‘‘ 4 Monsteur Dorlange,’’ in a 
woman’s writing perfectly unknown to me, 


180 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘Indeed, monsieur,’’ said I coldly, ‘‘ you are better in- 
formed thanI am. You have in your possession letters which 
seem to belong to me, but which have never reached me.” 

‘On my word!’’ cried M. de Lanty, ‘‘it must be con- 
fessed that you are an admirable actor. I never saw inno- 
cence and amazement more successfully assumed.”’ 

But, while he was speaking, Mme. de Lanty had cleverly 
contrived to place herself behind her husband; and by a 
perfectly intelligible pantomime of entreaty, she besought me 
to accept the situation I was so strenuously denying. My 
honor was too deeply implicated, and I really saw too little 
of what I might be doing, to feel inclined to surrender at 
once. So, with the hope of feeling my way a little, I said— 

‘But, monsieur, from whom are these letters? Who ad- 
dressed them to me?”’ 

‘From whom are the letters?’’ exclaimed M. de Lanty, 
in a tone in which irony was merged in indignation. 

‘‘ Denial is useless, monsieur,’’ Madame de Lanty put in. 
‘‘Marianina has confessed everything.” 

‘‘ Mademoiselle Marianina wrote those letters—to me?’”’ 
replied I. ‘Then there is a simple issue to the matter; con- 
front her with me. From her lips I will accept the most 
improbable statements as true.’’ 

‘¢The trick is gallant enough,’’ retorted M. de Lanty. 
‘‘ But Marianina is no longer here; she is in a convent, shel- 
tered for ever from your audacity and from the temptations of 
her ridiculous passion. If this is what you came to learn, 
now you know it. That is enough, for I will not deny that 
my patience and moderation have limits, if your impudence 
knows none.”’ 

‘« Monsieur !’’ cried I, in great excitement. 

The next day I received a visit from the Abbé Fontanon, 
the comtesse’s confessor. 

As soon as he was seated, he began— 

‘Monsieur, Mme. la Comtesse de Lanty does me the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 181 


honor of accepting me as the keeper of her conscience. 
From her I have heard of a scene that took place yesterday 
between you and her husband. Prudence would not at the 
time allow of her giving some explanations to which you 
have an undoubted right, and I have undertaken to commu- 
nicate them to you—that is the reason of my presence here.”’ 

‘*T am listening, sir,’’ was all I replied. 

‘*Some weeks ago,’’ the priest went on, ‘‘M. de Lanty 
purchased an estate in the neighborhood of Paris, and took 
advantage of the fine weather to go thither with his family. 
M. de Lanty sleeps badly; one night when he was lying 
awake in the dark, he fancied he heard footsteps below his 
window, which he at once opened, calling out: ‘ Who's 
there?’ in emphatic tones, to the nocturnal visitor he sus- 
pected. Nor was he mistaken, there was somebody there— 
somebody who made no answer, but took to his heels, two 
pistol-shots fired by M. de Lanty having no effect. At first 
it was supposed that the stranger was bent on robbery ; this, 
however, did not seem likely; the house was not furnished, 
the owners had only the most necessary things for a short 
stay ; thieves, consequently, who generally are well-informed, 
could not expect to find anything of value; and beside, some 
information reached M. de Lanty which gave his suspicions 
another direction. He was told that, two days after his 
arrival, a fine young man had taken a bedroom in an inn at 
the neighboring village ; that this gentleman seemed anxious 
to keep out of sight, and had several times gone out at night ; 
so not a robber evident]ly—but a lover.’’ 

‘¢T have never met with a romancer, M. l’Abbé,”’ said I, 
‘‘ who told his story in better style.’’ 

By this not very complimentary insinuation, I hoped to in- 
duce the speaker to abridge his story ; for, as you may suppose, 
I wanted to hear the end. 

‘¢ My romance is, unfortunately, painful fact,’’ replied he. 
** You will see. M. de Lanty had for some time been watching 


182 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


his daughter, whose vehement passions must, he feared, ere 
long, result in an explosion. You yourself, monsieur, had in 
Rome given him some uneasiness BY 

‘¢ Quite gratuitous, M. ]’Abbé,’’ I put in. 

‘Yes. I know that in all your acquaintance with Mlle. de 
Lanty your behavior has been perfectly correct. And, in- 
deed, their leaving Rome put an end to this first ground for 
uneasiness ; but in Paris another figure seemed to fill her young 
mind, and day after day M. de Lanty purposed coming to 
some explanation with his daughter. 

‘‘A maid, accused of receiving a young man who had been 
prowling around, was desired to leave the house at once. 
This woman’s father is a violent-tempered man, and if she 
returned home charged with anything so disgraceful she would 
meet with ruthless severity of treatment. Mlle. de Lanty— 
that much justice I must do her—had a Christian impulse ; 
she could not allow an innocent person to be punished in her 
stead ; she threw herself at her father’s feet, and confessed 
that the nocturnal visit had been for her ; and though she had 
not authorized it, she was not altogether surprised. 

‘*M. de Lanty at once named the supposed culprit ; but 
she would not admit that he had guessed rightly, though she 
refused to mention any other name instead. 

‘What, then, was to be done? It was the imprudent girl 
herself who suggested the idea of giving a name which, while 
justifying M. de Lanty’s fury, would not cry to him for ven- 
geance.”’ 

*‘T understand,’’ I interrupted. ‘‘ The name of a man of 
no birth, a person of no consequence, an artist perhaps, a 
sculptor, or some such low fellow ey 

‘‘T think, monsieur,’’ said the abbé, ‘‘ that you are ascribing 
to Mademoiselle de Lanty a feeling to which she is quite a 
stranger. In my opinion her love of the arts is only too 
strongly pronounced, and that perhaps is what has led to this 
unfortunate laxity of imagination.’’ 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 183 


“And then, M. l’Abbé, what about the pocket-book—the 
letters—which played so strange a part in yesterday’s 
scene 2”? 

*¢ That again wasa device of Marianina’s ; and though, as it 
has turned out, the strange inventiveness of her wit has had a 
good result, it was this in her character which, if she had re- 
mained in the world, would have given cause for uneasiness. 
When once she and Mme. de Lanty had agreed that you were 
to be the night-prowler, the statement had to be supported by 
evidence to favor its success. Instead of words, this terrible 
young lady determined to act in that sense. She spent the 
night in writing the letters you saw. She used different kinds 
of paper, ink of which she altered the tone, and she carefully 
varied the writing ; she forgot nothing. Having written them, 
she placed them in a pocket-book her father had never seen ; 
and then, after having made a hunting-dog smell it all over— 
a dog noted for its intelligence and allowed in the house— 
she threw the whole thing into aclump of shrubs in the park, 
and came back to endure her father’s angry cross-examina- 
tion. 

‘«The same sharp contest had begun once more when the dog 
came in carrying the pocket-book to his young mistress. She 
acted agonized alarm; M. de Lanty pounced on the object, 
and to him everything was clear—he was deluded, as had been 
intended.”’ 

‘‘And all these details,’’ said I, with no great air of cre- 
dulity, ‘‘ were reported to you by Mme. de Lanty?”’ 

‘*Confided to me, monsieur, and you yourself had proof 
yesterday of their exactitude. Your refusal to recognize the 
situation might have undone everything, and that was why 
Mme. de Lanty interposed.”’ 

‘‘And Mademoiselle Marianina?’’ I asked. 

‘‘As M. de Lanty told you, she was immediately sent away 
. to a convent in Italy.’’ 

Even if my self-respect had not been so aggrieved by this 


184 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


story—if it were true—I should have felt some doubts, for does 
it not strike you as rather too romantic? However, an ex- 
planation has since offered itself, which may afford a clue to 
the facts. Not longago Marianina’s brother married into the 
family of a German grand-duke. The Lantys must have had 
to sacrifice immense sums to achieve such an alliance. May 
not Marianina have paid the expenses of this royal alliance, 
since she, by her grand-uncle’s will, had the bulk of his for- 
tune, and was disinherited by taking the veil? Or, again, 
may she not have really felt for me the affection expressed in 
her letters, and have been childish enovgh to write them, 
though she would not go so far as to send them? 

I can believe anything of these Lantys. The head of the 
family has always seemed to me a very deep and crafty char- 
acter, capable at a pinch of the blackest designs; and then, if 
you remember that these people have all their lives slept, as 
it were, on the secret knowledge of a fortune so ignobly 
earned, is it not conceivable that they should be ripe for any 
kind of intrigues, or can you imagine them dainty in their 
choice of means to an end? 

And I may add that the official intervention of the Abbé 
Fontanon justifies the worst imputations. I have-made in- 
quiries about him; he is one of those mischief-making priests 
who are always eager to have a finger in private family affairs; 
and it was he who helped to upset the home of M. de Gran- 
ville, attorney-general in Paris under the Restoration. 

And is it not a really diabolical coincidence that my chisel 
should be called upon to execute a pale daughter of the clois- 
ter? Under these circumstances was not my imagination 
inevitably memory; could I invent any image but that which 
possesses my soul and is so deeply graven on my brain? And 
behold! a second Marianina rises up before me in the flesh ; 
and when, for the better furtherance of the work, the artist 
takes advantage of this stroke of fortune, he must be supposed, 
forsooth, to have transferred his affections. Could that frigid 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 185 


Mme. de 1’Estorade ever fill the place of my enchanting pupil 
with the added charm and halo of forbidden fruit and of mys- 
tery? In short, you must give up all your imaginings. 

The other day I was within an ace of relating the whole 
romance of Mademoiselle de Lanty to her supposed rival. 
And if I really aspired to this woman’s favor—but she can 
love no one but her children—a pretty way of courting her it 
would be, I may say, to tell her that little tale. And so, to 
return to our starting-point, I care no more for M. Bixiou’s 
opinion than for last year’s roses. And so, I really do not 
know whether I am in love with Marianina; but I am quite 
sure that I am not in love with Madame de 1’Estorade. This, 
it seems to me, is a plain and honest answer. 

Now, let us leave things to the future, who is the master of 
us all. 


THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE TO MADAME OCTAVE DE CAMPS. 


PaRIs, Afril, 1839. 

My pEAR MapAamE:—M. Dorlange came last evening to 
take leave of us. He is starting to-day for Arcis-sur-Aube, 
where he is to see his statue set up in its place. That also is 
the town where the opposition are about to propose him as 
their candidate. M. de 1’Estorade declares that no worse 
choice could have been made, and that he has not a chance 
of being elected—but this is not what I have to write 
about. 

M. Dorlange called early after dinner. I was alone, for M. 
de 1’Estorade was dining with the minister of the Interior ; 
and the children, who had been ona long excursion in the 
afternoon, had of their own accord begged to go to bed before 
the usual hour. Thus the conversation previously interrupted 
by Madame de la Bastie was naturally reopened ; and I was 
about to ask M. Dorlange to finish the story, of which he had 
only given me a hint of the end, when old Lucas came in, 

G 


186 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


bringing me a letter. It was from my Armand, to tell me 
that he had been in the sick-room all day, very unwell. 

‘¢T want the carriage,’’ said I to Lucas, with such agitation 
as you may suppose. 

“‘Well, madame, but monsieur ordered it to fetch him at 
half-past eight, and Tony is gone,’’ replied Lucas. 

‘‘Then get me a hackney-coach.”’ 

‘¢T am sure I don’t know whether I can find one,”’ said 
the old man, who always raises difficulties. ‘‘ It has just be- 
gun to rain.’”’ 

Without noticing this objection, and quite forgetting M. 
Dorlange, whom I left somewhat embarrassed, not liking to 
leave without saying adieu, I went to my room to put on my 
bonnet and shawl. Having done so in great haste, I returned 
to the drawing-room, where I still found my visitor. 

‘‘ You must excuse me, monsieur,”’ said I, ‘‘ for leaving you 
so abruptly; Iam hurrying off to the Collége Henri IV. I 
could not endure to spend the night in such anxiety as I am 
feeling in consequence of a note from my son, who tells me 
that he has been in the sick-room all day.”’ 

‘‘ But surely,’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘‘ you are not going alone 
in a hackney-coach to such an out-of-the-way part of the 
town ?”’ 

“* Lucas will come with me.”’ 

At this moment Lucas came in again. His words were ful- 
filled ; there was not a hack to be had, and it was pouring in 
torrents. Time was flying; it was almost too late already to 
visit the school, where everybody would be in bed by nine 
o’clock. 

“‘T must go,’’ said I to Lucas. ‘‘Goand put on your thick 
shoes, and we will go on foot with umbrellas.’’ 

I saw the man’s face lengthen ; he is no longer young; he 
likes his ease, and he complains of rheumatism in the winter. 
He suddenly found a number of objections; it was very late ; 
we should revolutionize the school; I should certainly catch 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 187 


cold; M. Armand could not be very ill since he had written 
himself—my plan of campaign was evidently not at all to my 
old man’s mind. 

Then M. Dorlange very obligingly offered to go for me and 
come back to report the invalid, but such half-measures will 
not do for me—I wanted to see, and satisfy myself. So, with 
many thanks to him, I said to Lucas in an authoritative 
tone— 

‘«Come, go and get ready, and be quick, for one thing you 
have said that is perfectly true—it is growing late.’’ 

Thus nailed to the point, Lucas boldly hoisted the flag of 
rebellion. 

‘*It is simply impossible, madame, that you should go out 
in such weather, and I do not want to get a scolding from the 
master for giving in to any such idea.”’ 

‘¢Then you simply do not mean to obey me?”’ 

“You know, madame, that for anything useful or reason- 
able I would do whatever you might order, even if it were to 
walk through fire.’’ 

‘<To be sure, warmth is good for the rheumatism, and rain 
is bad for it.’’ 

Then I turned to M. Dorlange without listening to the old 
rebel’s reply, and said to him— 

‘« Since you were good enough to offer to go alone on this 
errand, I venture to hope that you will not refuse me the sup- 
port of your arm.”’ 

‘*Like Lucas,’’ said he, ‘‘I do not see that this expedition 
is indispensable ; however, as I have no fear of being scolded 
by M. de 1’Estorade, I will, of course, have the honor of 
escorting you.’’ 

We set out. The weather really was horrible; we had not 
gone fifty yards when we were already drenched, in spite of 
Lucas’ vast umbrella, held by M. Dorlange so as to shelter me 
by sacrificing himself. Then a new complication arose. A 
hackney-coach went past; my companion hailed the driver ; 


188 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


it was empty. To tell my escort that I could not allow him 
to get in with me was out of the question. Not only would 
such an implied doubt have been grossly uncivil, but it would 
have been derogatory to myself even to suggest it. And yet, 
you see, my dear friend, what slippery ways we tread, and 
how true it is that from the time of Dido and A£neas rain has 
always served the turn of lovers ! 

When we reached the school, M. Dorlange, after handing 
me out, understood that he could not go in with me; he got 
into the coach again to wait for me. 

Master Armand’s indisposition was somewhat of a practical 
joke so far as I was concerned. His illness was no more than 
a headache, which since his note was written had completely 
disappeared. The doctor, who had seen him in the morning, 
to order something, had prescribed lime-flower tea, and told 
him he could return to the class-room next day. So I had 
taken a sledge-hammer to kill a flea, and committed a pre- 
posterous blunder in arriving at an hour when all the staff 
were in bed, to find my young gentleman still up and playing 
a game of chess with one of the attendants. 

By the time I went out again the rain had ceased, and 
bright moonlight silvered the pavement, which the rain had 
so thoroughly washed that there was not a sign of mud. I 
was so oppressed and vexed that I longed for the fresh air. 
So I begged M. Dorlange to send away the coach, and we 
walked home. 

‘‘Come,’’ thought I, ‘‘we must come to an end of this 
story, which is always interrupted, like the famous anecdote 
of Sancho’s goatherd which could never be told.’’ 

So, cutting short the theories of education, which he had 
advanced : 

“‘It seems to me,’’ said I to my earnest companion, ‘‘ that 
this would be a good opportunity for going on with the con- 
fidential narrative in which you were interrupted. Here we 
are quite safe from any intrusion.”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 189 


‘‘T am afraid,’’ said M. Dorlange, ‘‘that I am but a bad 
narrator. I exhausted all my genius the other day in com- 
municating the history to Marie-Gaston.’’ 

‘¢That,’’ said I, with a laugh, ‘‘is against your principles 
of secrecy, in which a third person is one too many.”’ 

‘¢Oh, Marie-Gaston and I are but one person. Beside, I 
had to give some answer to the odd fancies he had formed as 
to you and me.’’ 

‘¢What—as to me!’”’ 

‘‘Ves. He opines that by staring too hard at the sun one 
may be dazzled by its rays.’’ 

‘‘ Which, in less metaphorical language, means? 

‘That seeing how strange the circumstances were that led 
to my having the honor of your acquaintance, I might possi- 
bly, madame, in your society, fail to preserve my common- 
sense and self-possession.’’ 

‘*And your story answers this hypothesis of M. Marie- 
Gaston’s?”’ 

‘¢ You shall judge,’’ said M. Dorlange. 

And then, without further preamble, he told me a rather 
long story, which I do not repeat to you, my dear madame, 
because on the one hand it has really nothing to do with your 
functions as keeper of my conscience, and on the other it is 
mixed up with a family secret which demands more discretion 
on my part than I could have anticipated. 

The upshot of the matter is that M. Dorlange is in love 
with the womanwho had sat in his imagination for the Sainte- 
Ursule. Still, as it must be said that she is apparently for 
ever out of his reach, it did not seem to me quite impossible 
that he might sooner or later transfer to me the feeling he still 
preserves for her. Hence, when, having finished his narra- 
tive, he asked me whether I did not take it as a triumphant 
refutation of our mutual friend’s absurd and groundless fears, 
I could but reply— 

‘‘ Modesty makes it incumbent on me to share your con- 





190 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


fidence. At the same time, a cannon-ball often kills by rico- 
chet.”’ 

‘©And you believe me guilty of the audacity which Marie- 
Gaston fears may be so fatal to me?’”’ 

‘©T do not know that it would be audacity,”’ said I, rather 
harshly ; ‘‘ but if you had such a fancy and took it to heart, 
I should, I own, think you greatly to be pitied.”’ 

His reply was a home-thrust— 

‘* Well, madame, you need not pity me. In my opinion, 
first love is a kind of vaccination which saves a man from 
catching the complaint a second time.’’ 

This closed the conversation; the story had been a long 
one, and we were at home. I asked M. Dorlange to come 
upstairs, a politeness he accepted, remarking that M. de 1’Es- 
torade had probably come in, and he could, therefore, say 
adieu to iim. 

My husband was in fact at home. I do not know whether 
Lucas, to anticipate the blame I should have cast on him, had 
done his best to misrepresent my proceedings, or whether my 
maternal exploit prompted M. de 1’Estorade, for the first time 
in his life, to a spasm of jealousy of which he was unable to 
conceal the unfamiliar symptoms; at any rate, he received 
me with an indignant rating, saying that nothing was so un- 
heard of as the idea of going out at this hour, and in such 
weather, to inquire after an invalid who, by announcing his 
illness himself, showed it was not in the least serious. 

After allowing him to go on for some time in a highly un- 
becoming manner, I thought it was time to put an end to the 
scene. . 

‘Well,’’ said I sharply, ‘‘ I wish to get some sleep to-night ; 
I went to the school in pouring rain. Now I have come back 
in beautiful moonlight, and I beg to remind you that after 
kindly consenting to escort me, M. Dorlange, who leaves 
Paris to-morrow, came upstairs to bid you farewell.’’ 

I have habitually too much influence over M. de 1’Estorade 


THE DEPUIY FOR ARCIS, 191 


for this call to order to fail of its effect ; still, I could see that 
there was something of the aggrieved husband in his tone; 
for, having brought in M. Dorlange to divert his thoughts, I 
soon perceived that I had but made him a victim to my ogre’s 
ill-temper, which was now vented on him. 

‘Listen to me, my dear sir,’’ said M. de 1’Estorade to his 
victim, ‘‘when a man rushes into a parliamentary career, he 
must remember that he has to show every card—his public 
and his private life. His adversaries overhaul his past and 
present with merciless hands, and woe to him whose life has 
the shadow of a stain! Well, I may tell you painly, this 
evening a little scandal was raked up—a very little one in the 
life of an artist, but one which, as affecting a representative of 
the people, assumes far more serious proportions. You under- 
stand me. I am alluding to the handsome Italian woman who 
lives under your roof. Take care; you may be called to 
account by some puritan voter for the more or less doubtful 
morality of her connection with you.’’ 

M. Dorlange’s reply was very dignified— 

‘*T can have but one wish for those who choose to question 
me on that detail of my domestic life,’’ said he, ‘‘ and that is 
that they may have nothing worse to look back upon in theirs. 
If I had not already bored Madame la Comtesse with one 
interminable story during our walk home, I would tell you 
that of the pretty Italian, and you would see that her presence 
in my house need deprive me of none of the esteem you have 
kindly honored me with.”’ 

‘*But indeed,’’ said M. de l’Estorade, suddenly mollified 
by hearing that our long walk had been spent in narrating 
history, ‘‘ you take my remarks far too seriously! As I said 
but just now, an artist needs a handsome model, nothing can 
be more natural; but it isa piece of furniture that is of no 
use to gentlemen engaged in politics.’’ 

‘What appears to be cf more use to them,’’ retorted M. 
Dorlange, with some vivacity, ‘‘is the advantage that may be 


192 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


taken of a calumny greedily accepted with evil haste, and 
with no effort to verify it.’’ 

‘So you are going to-morrow?’ asked M. de l’Estorade, 
finding that he had started on a path where, instead of bring- 
ing M. Dorlange to confusion, he had afforded him an oppor- 
tunity of answering with no little haughtiness of tone and 
phrase. 

‘Yes, and early in the day, so that I will have the honor 
now of wishing you good-night, for I still have some packing 
to finish.”’ 

With these words M. Dorlange rose, and after bowing to 
me rather formally, he left the room, not shaking hands with 
my husband, who, indeed, did not offer him the opportunity. 

M. de |’Estorade, to avoid the impending and inevitable 
explanation, at once exclaimed— 

‘© Well, and what was the matter with Armand ?”’ 

‘‘ What was the matter with Armand matters little ?’’ re- 
plied I, ‘‘as you may suppose from my having returned with- 
out him and showing no anxiety ; what is a far more interest- 
ing question is what is the matter with you, for I never saw 
you so out of tune, so bitter and cross-grained.”’ 

‘“*What! Because I told that ridiculous candidate that he 
might go into mourning at once over his chances? ’”’ 

‘‘In the first place, it was not complimentary, and at any 
rate the time was ill-chosen, when my motherly alarms had 
just inflicted an odious amount of trouble on the man you 
attacked.’’ 

‘*T cannot stand officious people,’’ retorted M. de 1’Esto- 
rade, in a higher tone than he usually adopts with me. ‘‘ And, 
after all, if this gentleman had not been on the spot to offer 
you his escort, you would not have set out on this unseemly 
expedition.’’ 

‘You are mistaken. I should have gone in astill more 
unseemly manner; for I should have gone alone, as your 
servants are the masters here, and refused to escort me,”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 193 


‘« But, after all, you must confess that if any one had met 
you at half-past nine at night, walking arm in arm with M. 
Dorlange, out by the Panthéon, it would have been thought 
strange, to say the least.’’ 

Then, affecting to have just discovered what I had known 
for an hour past— 

‘¢Bless me, monsieur!’’ cried I, ‘‘after fifteen years of 
married life are you doing me the honor of being jealous for 
the first time? Then, indeed, I can understand that, in 
spite of your regard for the proprieties, you took advantage 
of my being present to question M. Dorlange on the not very 
proper subject of the woman who is supposed to be his mis- 
tress. It was neither more nor less than very basely perfidi- 
ous ; you were trying to lower him in my eyes.”’ 

Thus riddled with shot, my hapless husband tried indeed to 
beat about the bush, and at last found no better alternative 
than to ring for Lucas, whom he lectured pretty sharply ; and 
there the matter ended. 

But, then, what is to be said of the conjugal tact which, 
while trying to make the man—of whom I had really been 
thinking too much—commit himself in my presence, gave 
him an opportunity of appearing in a better light than ever, 
and to the greatest advantage? For there is no doubt what- 
ever that the indignation with which M. Dorlange retaliated 
on the malignancy of which he was the object was the answer 
of an easy conscience, sure, too, of being able to refute the 
calumny. 

Are there, then, in the midst of our small and colorless 
society still some characters so strongly tempered that they 
can walk on the very precipice of opportunity and never fall ! 
What a nature must that be that can plunge through thorns 
and leave no wool! I had fancied I could make a friend of 
him ! | 

Nay, I will not play at that game. Supposing this Dante 
Alighieri of the chisel to be convinced at last that his Beatrice 

13. 


194 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


will never return to him; supposing that he should again, as 
he has done once already, look round on me—what could I 
do? Is a woman ever safe against the powerful fascination 
that such a man must exert? As M. de Montriveau said to the 
poor Duchesse de Langeais, not only must she never touch the 
axe, but she must keep as far from it as she can, for fear that 
a beam reflected from such polished steel should blind her 
eyes. 

Happily, M. de 1’Estorade is already hostile to this dan- 
gerous man; but my husband may be quite easy, I shall take 
care to encourage and cultivate this germ of enmity. And, 
beside this, if M. Dorlange should be elected, he and my hus- 
band will be in opposite camps; and political passions—thank 
heaven !—have often cut short older and better established 
intimacies than this. 

‘¢ But he saved your little girl,’’ you will say, ‘‘ you were 
afraid of his loving you, and he does not think of you at all; 
he is a man of cultivated intellect and magnanimous feeling, 
with whom there is not a fault to be found ! i‘ 

What arguments are these, my dear lady? He frightens 
me, and that is enough. And when I am frightened, I neither 
argue nor reason; I only consider whether I have legs and 
breath. and simply run and run till I feel myself in safety. 





DORLANGE TO MARIE-GASTON. 


PARIS, April, 1839. 

On coming in from taking leave of the Estorades, I find 
your letter, my dear friend, announcing your immediate ar- 
rival, I will wait here all to-morrow; but in the evening, 
without any further delay, I must set out for Arcis-sur-Aube, 
where, within a week, the end of my political struggle is to be 
fought out. What supporters and abettors I have in that town 
which—as I am informed—I am so anxious to represent ; on 
whose help or opposition I am to build my hopes; in one 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 195 


word, who it is that is making this electoral bed for me to lie 
in—of all this I know no more than I did a year ago when I 
was first apprised of my parliamentary vocation. 

Only a few days since did I receive a communication 
emanating from the paternal office, not from Stockholm this 
time, but with the Paris postmark. 

The note has a title or heading; as thus: 


WHAT MY SON IS TO DO. 


On receipt of ‘‘ these presents ’’ Iam to send off the ‘‘ Sainte- 
Ursule,’’ to see it packed myself in a case, and address it, by 
quick goods wagon, to Mother Marie des Anges, superior of 
the house of the Ursuline Sisters at Arcis-sur-Aube, AUBE—: 
you understand? In fact, but for this added information I 
might have fancied that Arcis-sur-Aube was situated in the de- 
partment of the Gironde or of Finisterre. I am there to make 
an arrangement with the carrier’s agents to insure the delivery 
of the parcel—my ‘‘ Sainte-Ursule’’ a parcel !—at the door of 
the convent chapel. I am then commanded to start in a very 
few days later, so as to reach the aforenamed town of Arcis- 
sur-Aube by the second of May at latest. You see, these are 
military orders ; so much so that I half thought of taking out a 
soldier’s pass instead of an ordinary permit to travel, and 
of taking my journey at the regulation fare of three sous per 
league. 

The hotel I am to put up at is expressly mentioned: I am 
to stay at the Hétel de la Poste; hence, if I should happen to 
prefer the Three Blackamoors or the Silver Lion, which are 
to be found there, no doubt, as in every country town, I must 
not indulge the fancy. Finally, on the day before I start, I 
am to announce, in any newspapers I can work upon, the fact 
of my intending to stand as a candidate for election in the 
electoral district of Arcis-sur-Aube (Aube), but not to put 
forward any declaration of my political creed, which would 


196 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


be useless and premature. And the whole concludes with 
instructions—a little humiliating perhaps, but giving me some 
faith in the progress of affairs—to call on the morning of the 
day when I set out on Mongenod Brothers, where I can again 
draw a sum of two hundred and fifty thousand francs, which 
ought to be lying there in my name. ‘‘I am to take the 
greatest care,’’ the document goes on, ‘‘that in conveying 
this sum from Paris to Arcis-sur-Aube it is neither lost nor 
stolen.”’ 

What, my good sir, do you make of this last clause? The 
money ‘‘ ought to be lying there ’’—then it may not be; and 
if not, what then? What am I to do with it at Arcis? Am 
I to work my election in the English fashion ?—that, no doubt, 
is why a profession of faith would be ‘‘ useless and premature.” 
As to the advice not to lose the money or allow myself to be 
robbed—don’t you think it makes me wonderfully young 
again? Since reading it I have quite longed to suck my 
thumb and get a padded cap. 

However, as to my lord and father, though he puts my 
mind on the rack by all these queer ways of his, I could ex- 
claim—but for the respect I owe him—like Don Basilio in 
speaking of Almaviva: ‘‘ That devil of a man has his pockets 
full of irresistible arguments !’’ 

So I shut my eyes and give myself up to the stream that is 
carrying me on; and in spite of the news of your early advent, 
I must call to-morrow morning on Mongenod Brothers, and 
set forth with a brave heart, picturing to myself the amaze- 
ment of the good people of Arcis when they see me drop into 
their midst, as sudden and as startling an apparition as a Jack- 
in-the-box. 

I have already made my mark in Paris. The ‘‘ National ”’ 
announced me as a candidate yesterday morning in the most 
flaming terms; and this evening it would seem that I was the 
subject of much discussion at the house of the minister of the 
Interior, where M. de 1|’Estorade was dining. I must in 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 197 


honesty add that, according to M. de 1’Estorade, the general 
impression was that I must inevitably fail. In the district of 
Arcis, it would seem, the worst the Government had to fear 
was a Left-Centre candidate; the democratic party, which I 
am by way of representing, can hardly be said to have any 
existence there. The Left-Centre candidate has already been 
brought to his senses by the dispatch of a particularly alert 
and skillful canvasser ; and at this moment, when I am flinging 
my name to the winds, the election of the Conservative is 
already a certainty. 

Added to these elements of inevitable failure, M. de 1’ Esto- 
rade was good enough to speak of a circumstance as to which, 
my dear fellow, I am surprised that you should never have 
given me a sermon, for it is one of the most pleasing of the 
calumnies set rolling in the Montcornet drawing-room by the 
honorable and highly honored Monsieur Bixiou. It has to 
do with a very handsome Italian woman whom I am supposed 
to have brought with me from Rome, and to be living with in 
most uncanonical relationship. 

Pray tell me what has kept you from asking for explanations 
of the matter? Did you think the case so atrocious that you 
were shy of offending my sense of decency by alluding to it in 
any way? Or is it that you have such confidence in my high 
moral sense that you need no certificate on that point? I had 
not time to go into the necessary explanations with M. de 
l’Estorade, nor have I time now, nor inclination, to volun- 
teer them to you. 

I have a strong notion that M. de 1’Estorade would not be. 
best pleased at my succeeding in this electoral campaign. He 
has never expressed much approbation of my plans, and has 
constantly done his utmost to divert me from them—always 
indeed by urging considerations in my own interest. But 
now that the idea has taken shape, and is even discussed in 
Ministerial circles, my gentleman has turned sour ; and while 
finding malicious pleasure in promising me defeat, he brings 


198 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


up the pretty little activity under which he hopes to smother 
and bury me—as a friendly act. Now, why? 

I will tell you. The fact is, that though he is under an 
obligation to me, the good man by his high social position 
feels himself my superior in a way which my election to the 
Chamber would nullify, and he does not like the notion of 
renouncing it. For, after all, what is an artist—even if he be 
a genius—in comparison with a peer of France, a bigwig who 
has a finger in the supreme direction of great political and 
social questions—a man who can button-hole the ministers and 
the King, who, if he were capable of such an audacious flight, 
has a right to blackball the Appropriations? And is it con- 
ceivable that I, in my turn, should want to be such a privi- 
leged person, with even greater importance and authority as 
being a member of the elective body? Is it not a trying piece 
of insolence and conceit. Hence is M. le Comte furious ! 

Nor is this all. These politicians by right divine have a 
fixed idea: they believe themselves to have been initiated by 
long study into a science supposed to be very abstruse, which 
they call Statecraft, and which they alone have a right to 
know and practice, as none but physicians may practice medi- 
cine. So they cannot endure that without having taken out 
a license, any low fellow—such as a journalist, for instance, 
or, lower still, an artist, an image-maker—should dare to. 
poach on their domain and speak as they do. A poet, an 
artist, a writer may have great gifts—that they are ready to 
grant; in fact, their business requires it; but they cannot 
be statesmen. Chateaubriand himself, though naturally in a 
position which justified him in making a place for himself in 
the Olympus of Government, was nevertheless shown the door, 
and one morning a very brief note, signed ‘‘ Joseph Villéle,”’ 
sent him packing—as was but proper !—back to ‘ René,’’ 
“* Atala,’’ and other literary trivialities. 

I know that time, and that stalwart posthumous daughter 
of us all whom we call Posterity, will in the long run do us 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 199 


all full justice and put every man in his right place. In 2039, 
if the world holds out so long, most men will still know who, 
in 1839, were Canalis, Joseph Bridau, Daniel d’Arthez, Stid- 
mann, and Léon de Lora; while only an infinitely small 
number will be aware that at the same time M. le Comte de 
]’Estorade was a peer of France and president of the Court of 
Exchequer ; that M. le Comte de Rastignac was minister of 
Public Works, and M. le Baron Martial de la Roche-Hugon, 
his brother-in-law, a diplomatist and privy councilor on special 
service more or less extraordinary. Still, pending this post- 
poned resifting and far-off justice, I do not think it a bad 
thing that these great men in office should have a reminder to 
the effect that, short of being a Richelieu or a Colbert, they 
are subject to competition, and must take the consequences. 

Well, I might say of your great griefs what I said just now 
of the great men in office: they must be regarded in their 
place in time and space, and then they are intangible, imper- 
ceptible, they are held of no more account in a man’s life 
when his biography is written than the hairs he combs out of 
his head every morning. That charming lunatic with whom 
you spent three years of matrimonial ecstasy put out a hand, 
as she thought, where Death was—and Death, mocking at her 
schemes, her plans, at the refinement and graces she added to 
life, snatched at her suddenly and brutally. You remain: 
You, with youth on your side and the gifts of intellect, and 
with what is, believe me, an element of power—deep and 
premature disgust of things. Now, why not do as I am doing ? 
Why not join me in the political arena? Then there would 
be two of us to carry out my plans, and the world would see 
what can be done by two determined and energetic men, 
yoked together, as it were, and both pulling at the heavy 
collar of justice and truth. 

But if you think that I am too much bent on becoming 
infectious, or inoculating all and sundry with my parliamen- 
tary yellow-fever, return at least to the world of letters where 


200 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


you have already made your mark, and exert your imagination 
to enable you to ignore your heart, which speaks too con- 
stantly of the past. I, for my part, will make as much stir for 
you as I can; and even if it should cost me part of my sleep 
to keep up our correspondence to divert your mind whether 
you will or not, I shall take care to keep you informed of all 
the vicissitudes of the drama I am about to play a part in. 

P. S.—You have not arrived, my dear friend, and I must 
close my letter, which will be handed to you by my house- 
keeper when you call—for, of course, your first visit will be 
tome. ‘Till then you cannot know that I am gone. 

I went this morning to the bankers Mongenod: the two 
hundred and fifty thousand francs were ready, but with the 
most extraordinary directions—in the name of JZ. le Comte 
de Sallenauve, known as M. Dorlange, sculptor, Rue del Ouest, 
Vo. 42. And in spite of this designation, which has never been 
mine, the money was handed over to me without demur. 
Under the eyes of the cashier I had presence of mind enough 
not to seem utterly amazed by my new name and title; but I 
had a private interview with M. Mongenod, senior, a man of 
the highest character in the banking world, and to him I con- 
fessed my surprise, begging for any explanation he might be 
able to afford me. He could give me none: the money was 
forwarded to him through a Dutch bank, his correspondent at 
Rotterdam, and that is all he knows. 

Bless me! what next I wonder? Am I now to be a noble- 
man? Has the moment arrived when my father will reveal” 
himself ? 


DORLANGE TO MARIE-GASTON. 


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, May 3, 1839. 
My DEAR OLD FRIEND :—Last evening, at seven o’clock, 
in the presence of Maitre Achille Pigoult, notary to the King 
in the town of Arcis-sur-Aube, the obsequies were solemnized 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIJS. 201 


of Charles Dorlange, who, presently, like a butterfly emerging 
from the larva, fluttered out on the world under the name and 
person of Charles de Sallenauve, son of Frangois-Henri-Panta- 
léon Dumirail, Marquis de Sallenauve. Hereinafter are set 
forth the recorded facts which preceded this great and glorious 
metempsychosis. 

On the evening of May rst I left Paris in all the official 
revelry of St. Philip’s Day; and on the following afternoon, 
in obedience to paternal instructions, I made my entry into 
the good town of Arcis-sur-Aube. On getting out of the 
chaise my amazement was considerable, as you may imagine, 
on discerning, in the street where the diligence had just 
arrived, that evasive Jacques Bricheteau whom I had never 
seen since our strange meeting in the Ile Saint-Louis. But 
this time, instead of behaving like Jean de Nivelle, behold 
him coming toward me with a smile on his face ; and, holding 
out his hand, he said: 

‘*At last, my dear sir, we are almost at an end of these 
mysteries, and you will soon, I hope, find no further reason 
to complain of me.’’ 

At the same time, with an air of anxious solicitude that was 
too much for him, he added: 

‘*' You have brought the money ?”’ 

‘*Yes,’? I replied. ‘‘ Neither lost nor stolen,’’ and I took 
out the pocket-book that contained the two hundred and fifty 
thousand francs in bank-notes. 

‘‘That is well,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau. ‘‘ Now we will 
go to the Hétel de la Poste. You doubtless know who is 
waiting for you?’’ 

“*No, indeed,’’ said I. 

‘“‘Then you did not observe the name under which the 
money was made payable ?’”’ 

‘‘On the contrary—and anything so peates could not fail 
to strike me and set my imagination working.”’ 

‘* Well, presently the veil will be removed of which, so far, 


202 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


a corner has just been lifted that you might not be too sud- 
denly startled by the great and happy event that is about to 
take place in your life.’’ 

‘‘Is my father here?’”’ 

I asked the question eagerly, and yet without the deep 
emotion I should probably have felt at the thought of em- 
bracing my mother. 

‘Yes,’’ replied Jacques Bricheteau. ‘‘ But I think it well 
to warn you of a possible chill on your meeting. The 
marquis has gone through much suffering. The Court life to 
which he has since been accustomed has made him unready to 
display any expression of feeling ; beside, he has a perfect 
horror of anything suggesting bourgeois manners; so you 
must not be surprised at the aristocratically cold and dignified 
reception you may meet with. He is kind at heart, and you 
will appreciate him more as you know him better.’’ 

‘¢These preliminaries are highly encouraging,’’ thought I. 
And as I myself did not feel any very ardent predispositions, 
I augured that this first interview would be at a temperature 
of some degrees below zero. 

On going into the room where the marquis awaited me, I 
saw a very tall, very thin, very bald man, seated at a table on 
which he was arranging papers. On hearing the door open, 
he pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, rested his hands 
on the arms of his chair, and looking round at us he waited. 

‘* Monsieur le Comte de Sallenauve,”’ said Jacques Briche- 
teau, announcing me with the solemnity of an usher of am- 
bassadors or a groom of the Chambers. 

But in the presence of the man to whom I owed my life the 
ice in me was instantly melted; I stepped forward with an 
eager impulse, feeling the tears rise to my eyes. He did not 
move. There was not the faintest trace of agitation in his 
face, which had that peculiar look of high dignity that used 
to be called ‘‘ the grand air;’’ he merely held out his hand, 
limply grasped mine, and then said— 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 203 


‘‘ Be seated, monsieur—for I have not yet the right to call 
you my son.”’ 

When Jacques Bricheteau and I had taken chairs— 

‘¢Then you have no objection,’’ said this strange kind of 
father, ‘‘to assuming the political position we are trying to 
secure for you?”’ 

‘*None at all,’’ said I. ‘‘The notion startled me at first, 
but I soon grew accustomed to it; and, to insure success, I 
have punctually carried out all the instructions that were con- 
veyed to me.”’ 

‘‘Excellent,’’ said the marquis, taking up from the table a 
gold snuff-box which he twirled in his fingers. 

Then, after a short silence, he added— 

‘“Now I owe you certain explanations. Our good friend 
Jacques Bricheteau, if he will have the kindness, will lay 
them before you.’’ A sort of echo of the royal formula, 
** My chancellor will tell you the rest.” 

“To begin at the beginning,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau, 
accepting the task thus thrust upon him,, ‘‘ I ought to tell you, 
monsieur, that you are not a Sallenauve in the direct line. 
On his return from the emigration, about the year 1808, 
Mz. le Marquis here present made the acquaintance of your 
mother, and you are the issue of that connection. Your 
mother, as you already know, died at your birth; and as mis- 
fortunes never come singly, shortly after this terrible sorrow 
M. de Sallenauve, being implicated in a plot against the Im- 
perial throne, was obliged to fly the country. M. le Marquis, 
like myself, a native of Arcis, honored me with his confidence, 
and on the eve of this second exile he placed your young life 
in my charge. I accepted the responsibility, I will not say 
gladly, but with sincere gratitude.”’ 

At these words the marquis held out his hand to Jacques 
Bricheteau, who was sitting near him, and after a silent pres- 
sure—which, I may say, did not seem to agitate them deeply 
—Jacques Bricheteau went on— 


204 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢ The elaborate and mysterious precautions I so carefully 
contrived, in order to conceal the functions I had accepted, 
may be accounted for by many reasons. I might say that 
every change of government that we have lived under since 
your birth has indirectly reacted on you. While the Empire 
lasted, I feared lest a power which was not reputed indulgent 
to those who attacked it might not include you in your 
father’s banishment, and that first suggested the idea of giving 
you a sort of anonymous identity. Under the Restoration, I 
had reason to fear another form of hostility. The Sallenauve 
family, of which M. le Marquis here present is the sole sur- 
viving representative, was then all-powerful. The circum- 
stances of your birth had got wind, and it had not escaped 
their perspicacity that monsieur your father had taken care 
not to admit his paternity, so as to be able to leave you his 
whole fortune, of which, as a recognized natural child, the 
law would only have allowed a fixed portion. 

‘* The obscurity that surrounded you seemed to me the best 
protection against the investigations of your money-seeking 
relations ; and certain suspicious proceedings on their part to 
spy on me at different times showed that my anticipations 
were justified. Finally, after the Revolution of July, I was 
afraid for you of your connection with me. I had seen the 
change of dynasty with deep regret; and having allowed 
myself to become involved in some overt acts of rebellion, 
since I had no belief in its stability—for men are always 
ready to fight a government that is forced upon them, and to 
which they are averse—I found myself on the black-list of the 
police m 

On this, remembering that at the Café des Arts Jacques 
Bricheteau had been the object of very different suspicions, 
I could not help smiling, and the chancellor, pausing, said 
with extreme solemnity— 

‘‘Do these details that I have the honor of giving you by 
apy misfortune appear to you doubtful ?”’ 





THE DEPUTY .FOR ARCIS. 205 


When I had accounted for the expression of my face— 

‘«The waiter,’”’ said Jacques Bricheteau, ‘‘ was not alto- 
gether in the wrong. I have for many years been employed 
by the police in the public health department ; but I am not 
a spy—on the contrary, I have more than once very nearly 
been a victim. Now, to return to the secrecy I still preserved 
as to our connection, though I did not apprehend positive 
persecution as resulting to you from knowing me, it seemed to 
me that such an acquaintance might be detrimental to your 
career. ‘Sculptors,’ I reflected, ‘cannot get on without 
the support of Government. I might possibly prevent his 
getting commissions.’ I ought also to say that at the time 
when I gave you notice that your allowance was to cease, I 
had for some years lost track of Monsieur le Marquis. Of 
what use was it, then, to tell you the history of the past, 
since it apparently could have no effect on your future pros- 
pects ? 

‘*T decided that it was best to leave you in complete igno- 
rance, and busied myself in inventing some fiction which 
might mislead your curiosity, and at the same time relieve me 
from the long privation I endured by avoiding any direct 
intercourse with you i: 

‘“¢The man you employed as your representative,’’ said I, 
interrupting him, ‘‘ was well chosen, no doubt, from the 
point of view of secrecy, but you must admit that he is not 
attractive.’’ 

‘Poor Gorenflot !’’ said the organist, laughing. ‘‘ He is 
simply one of the parish bell-ringers, and I employ him to 
blow the organ. I do not know whether the author of 
‘ Notre-Dame de Paris’ had ever seen him when he invented 
Quasimodo.”’ 

During this parenthesis an absurd sound fell on our ear; a 
distinct snore from my father gave us to understand that 
either he took very little interest in all these explanations 
given in his name, or that he thought them too prolix. 





206 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Whether it was his conceit as an orator that was nettled, or 
what else it was that roused Jacques Bricheteau’s temper, I 
know not, but he started to his feet with annoyance, and 
violently shook the sleeper’s arm, exclaiming— 

‘‘What, marquis !—if you sleep like this when sitting in 
Council, my word! the country must be well governed !’’ 

M. de Sallenauve opened his eyes, shook himself, and, speak- 
ing to me, he said— 

“Excuse me, M. le Comte, but I have traveled post for 
ten days and nights without stopping, in order to be in time 
to meet you here; and though I spent last night in a bed, I 
am still rather tired.’’ 

He then rose, took a large pinch of snuff, and paced the 
room, while Jacques Bricheteau went on— 

‘Tt is rather more than a year since I first heard again 
from your father. He explained his long silence and his pur- 
poses for you, saying that, perhaps for some years to come, it 
was absolutely necessary that he should still maintain the 
strictest incognito. It was just then that chance threw you 
in my way. I found you prepared to rush into any folly to 
get to the bottom of the secret of which you could no longer 
doubt the existence a 

“‘You are good at a quick removal !’’ said I, with a laugh 
to the erewhile lodger of the Quai de Béthune. 

“‘T did better than that. ‘Tormented by the idea that, in 
spite of my efforts, you would succeed in piercing the darkness 
I had so elaborately left you in, and at the very moment when 
M. le Marquis might think it most indispensable oe 

‘You set out for Stockholm ?”’ 

‘* No, for your father’s residence; but I posted at Stockholm 
the letter he gave me for you.”’ 

‘*But I do not quite understand 

‘Nothing can be simpler,’’ said the marquis decisively. 
**I do not live in Sweden, and we wished to put you off the 
scent.” 








” 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 207 


‘*Would you wish to tell the rest of the story yourself ?’’ 
said Jacques Bricheteau, though not seeming anxious to be 
superseded in his narrative ; for, as you see, he has an easy 
and elegant flow of language. 

‘*Not at all, not at all—go on,”’ said the marquis; ‘‘ you 
are doing it admirably.’ 

‘The presence here of M. le Marquis,’’ Jacques Bricheteau 
went on, ‘‘ will not, as I must warn you, immediately clear up 
all the mysteries which have hitherto complicated your rela- 
tions. For the furtherance of your future prospects, and of 
his own, he reserves the right of leaving you in ignorance for 
some time yet of the name of the country where he hopes to 
see you invited to succeed him, and of certain other details of 
his biography. In fact, he is here this day chiefly with a view 
to avoiding further explanations, and to renew the lease, so to 
speak, of your patient curiosity. 

‘¢ The recognition and legitimization of a natural son is a 
serious matter, surrounded by legal complications. An au- 
thenticated affidavit must be taken in the presence of a notary ; 
and even though the father’s personal deposition can be 
represented by a specially prepared document, M. le Mar- 
quis thought that the formalities indispensable to make this 
power of attorney effective might divulge the secret of his 
identity, not only to your disadvantage, but in the foreign 
land where he is married, and to some extent naturalized ; 
and that secret it is still incumbent on him to keep fora time. 
This decided him. He made an excuse to take a few weeks’ 
absence, arrived, posting all the way, and, taking me by sur- 
prise, arranged for our meeting here. 

‘In the course of such a long and hurried journey he feared 
that the considerable sum of money he is devoting to secure 
your election might not be quite safe in his keeping, and he 
therefore transmitted it through his bankers, to be drawn on a 
certain day. That is why, on your arrival, I asked you the 
question which may have surprised you. Now have to ask 


208 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


you another of far greater importance: Do you consent to take 
M. de Sallenauve’s name and be acknowledged by him as his 
son ?”’ 

‘‘T am no lawyer,’’ said I; ‘‘ but it seems to me that, even 
if I did not feel highly honored by it, it does not lie in my 
hands to decline such a recognition.”’ 

‘‘T beg your pardon,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau; ‘you 
might be the son of a very undesirable father, and find it to 
your interest to dispute the relationship; in the case as it 
stands you could plead, probably with success, to decline the 
favor proposed. I ought also to tell you—and I know that I 
am expressing the intentions of M. le Marquis—that if you do 
not think a man who has already spent half a million of francs 
out of pocket with a view to your election a father altogether 
to your mind, we leave you perfectly free, and have no wish 
to coerce you.”’ 

‘‘Quite so, quite so,’’ said M. de Sallenauve, in a short, 
sharp tone and the thin high pipe which is peculiar to these 
relics of the old aristocracy. 

Mere politeness required me to say that I was only too 
happy to accept the parentage thus pressed on me; and in 
reply to the few words I spoke to that effect, Jacques Briche- 
teau went on— 

‘‘And we do not ask you to ‘buy a fa¢her in a poke.’ Not 
so much with a view to command your confidence, which he 
believes he has won, as to enable you to judge of the family 
whose name you will bear, M. le Marquis will place before 
you all the title-deeds and parchments that are in his posses- 
sion; and beside this, though it is a long time since he left 
France, he can prove his identity by the evidence of his still 
living contemporaries, which will serve to corroborate the 
validity of the act he will put his name to. For instance, 
among the persons of unimpeachable honor who have already 
recognized him, I may mention the venerable mother superior 
of the Ursuline Sisters here, Mother Marie des Anges—for 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 209 


whom, I may add, you have executed a most glorious master- 
piece.’’ 

‘‘Yes, on my honor, a very pretty thing,’’ said the mar- 
quis. ‘If you are as strong in politics - 

‘‘Well, then, marquis,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau, who 
seemed to mea little overbearing, ‘‘ will you and our young 
friend proceed to verify those family papers ?’’ 

‘Tt is quite unnecessary,’’ said I. 

But my father would not let me off; for more than two 
hours he spread before me deeds, pedigrees, settlements, 
letters-patent, a thousand documents, to prove that the Salle- 
nauves are, with the exception of the Cing Cygnes, one of the 
oldest families in the Province of Champagne generally, and 
of the department of the Aube in particular. I may add that 
this display of archives had a running accompaniment of end- 
less details in words, which certainly gave the identity of the 
last Marquis de Sallenauve a very convincing semblance of 
genuineness. 

On all other subjects my father is apt to be laconic; his 
mind is not, I should say, remarkably open, and he is always 
ready to leave his chancellor to speak for him. But on the 
subject of his family papers he was bewilderingly full of anec- 
dotes, reminiscences, and heraldic information ; in short, the 
complete gentleman of an older time, ignorant or superficial 
on most subjects, but a Benedictine for erudition on everything 
connected with his ancestors. 

We dined, not at the sable @héte, but in a private room. 
There was nothing remarkable about the meal, unless it were 
the length of time it lasted in consequence of the absorbed 
silence and slowness of the marquis’ deglutition, in conse- 
quence of the loss of all his teeth. 

So by seven o’clock we were at Maitre Pigoult’s 

But it is near on two in the morning, and I am dropping 
asleep ; so, till to-morrow—when, if I have time, I will go on with 
this letter and the circumstantial account of all that took place 

14 








210 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


in the notary’s office. However, you know the upshot of it 
all, like a man who turns to the page of a novel to see whether 
Evelina marries her Arthur, and you may let me off the de- 
tails. As I step into bed I shall say to myself: Good-night, 
M. de Sallenauve. 

In fact, that old rascal Bricheteau was clumsy enough in 
foisting on me such a name as Dorlange; it was only fit for 
some hero of romance under the Empire, or one of the pro- 
vincial tenors on the lookout for an engagement under the 
meagre shade of the Palais-Royal. 


May 4, five in the morning. 


Arrived at Maitre Pigoult’s a maidservant, a country wench 
of the purest breed, led us through an office of the most ven- 
erably antique type—where, however, no clerks were to be 
seen working in the evening, as in Paris—she showed us into 
her master’s private room, a large room, cold and damp, and 
barely lighted by two composition candles on the desk. 

Maitre Achille Pigoult, a feeble little man, much marked 
with smallpox, and afflicted with green spectacles, over which, 
however, he can flash a look of great keenness and intelligence, 
asked us if we found the room warm enough. On our reply- 
ing in the affirmative—which he must have seen was a mere 
form of politeness—he had carried his incendiary purpose so 
far as to strike a match, when, from one of the darkest corners 
of the room, a broken and quavering voice, whose owner we 
had not yet discerned, opposed this lavish extravagance. 

‘*No, no, Achille, do not light the fire,’’ cried the old 
man. ‘*There are five of us in the room; the candles 
give a good deal of heat, and we shall be suffocated before 
long.” 

To these words of this hot-blooded Nestor, the marquis ex- 
claimed : 

‘“Why, it is worthy M. Pigoult, the old justice of the 
peace }”’ 


» 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 211 


The old man, thus recognized, rose and came up to my 
father, whom he examined narrowly. 

‘To be sure!’’ said he, ‘‘And I know you for a native 
of the province, of the old block; Achille told me the truth 
when he promised me that I should meet two old acquaint- 
ances. You,’’ said he to the organist, ‘‘ are little Bricheteau, 
nephew to the good Mother-superior Marie des Anges. But 
that tall fellow, with his face like a duke—I cannot put a 
name to him—and you must not be too hard on my memory, 
for after eighty-six years of hard service—it has a right to be 
a little stiff in the joints.’’ 

‘‘Now, then, grandfather,’’ said Achille Pigoult, ‘try to 
furbish up your recollections—and you, gentlemen, not a 
word, not ahint. I want to enlighten my faith. I have not 
the honor of knowing the client on whose behalf I am about 
to act, and, to be strictly regular, proof of his identity is re- 
quired. The act of Louis XII., passed in 1498, and Frangois 
I. confirming it, in 1535, make this. imperative on notaries— 
garies-notes as they were called—to forefend any substitution 
of parties to such deeds.* The law is too reasonable to have 
fallen into desuetude; and, for my part, I should not have 
the smallest respect for the validity of an act if it could be 
proved that such identification had been neglected.’’ 

While his son was speaking, old Pigoult had been racking 
his memory. My father, by good luck, has a queer nervous 
twitch of his features, which was naturally aggravated under 
the steady gaze of the certifier. On seeing this muscular 
movement, the old lawyer at last spotted his man. 

‘© Ah, I have it!’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘ Monsieur is the Mar- 
quis de Sallenauve—the man we used to call the Grimacier— 
who would, at this day, be the master of the Chateau d’Arcis 
if he had but married his pretty cousin, who had it for her 
marriage-portion, instead of going off with the rest of the 
madmen as an émigré.” 


* Notaries public must do the same in this country, 


212 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


“¢ Still a bit of a sams-culotte, it would seem,’’ said the mar- 
quis, laughing. 

‘¢Gentlemen,’’ said the notary impressively, ‘‘the test I 
had planned seems to me to be decisive. This evidence, and 
the papers which M. le Marquis has been good enough to sub- 
mit to me, leaving them in my hands, together with the cer- 
tificate of identity forwarded to me by Mother Marie des 
Anges, who is prohibited by the rules of her house from com- 
ing to my office, certainly justify us in completing the deeds 
which I have already prepared. One of them requires the 
signature of two witnesses. For one, we have here M. Briche- 
teau; for the other, my father, if you will accept him, and 
the honor, it seems to me, is his by right, for we may say he 
has won it at the point of his memory.”’ 

‘‘Well, then, gentlemen, let us take our seats !’’ exclaimed 
Bricheteau enthusiastically. 

The notary seated himself at his table; we made a semi- 
circle, and he began to read the deeds. The object in view 
was set forth—to authenticate the recognition by Frangois- 
Henri-Pantaléon Dumirail, Marquis de Sallenauve, of his son, 
in my person; but here a difficulty arose. Deeds under a 
notary’s certificate must mention the place of residence of the 
contracting parties, otherwise they are void. Now, where 
did my father reside? A blank space had been left by the 
notary, who wished to fill it up before proceeding any further. 

‘¢In the first place,’’ said Pigoult, ‘‘ it would seem that M. 
le Marquis has no place of residence in France, since, in fact, 
he does not reside in the country, and has for many years 
owned no land in it.”’ 

‘‘' That is true,’’ said the marquis, in a graver tone than 
the remark seemed to call for; ‘‘in France I am but a vaga- 
bond.”’ 

‘‘Aha!’’ said Jacques Bricheteau, ‘‘ but vagabonds like 
you, who can hand over on the nail such gifts to a son as the 
sum needed to purchase a mansion, are not beggars we need 


’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 213 


waste our pity on. At the same time, what you say is true— 
equally true in France or elsewhere—for, with your mania for 
eternally wandering, it seems to me pretty difficult to name 
your place of residence.”’ 

‘“Well, well,’’ said Achille Pigoult, ‘‘we will not be 
brought to a standstill by such a trifle as that. Monsieur,’’ 
and he turned to me, ‘‘ is now the owner of the Chateau 
d’Arcis, for an agreement to sell is equivalent to a sale when 
the parties are agreed as to the terms and price. Then, what 
can be more natural than that the father’s domicile should be 
stated as at one of his son’s estates; especially when it is 
family property recovered to the original owners by purchase 
for that son’s benefit, though paid for by the father; when, 
moreover, that father was born in the place where the said 
residence or domicile is situated, and is known and recognized 
by residents of standing whenever, at long intervals, he 
chooses to visit it ?’’ 

“Quite right,’’ said old Pigoult, yielding without hesita- 
tion to the argument set forth by his son, in that emphatic tone 
peculiar to men of business when they believe they have laid 
their finger on a conclusive opinion. 

‘¢ Certainly,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau, ‘‘if you think the 
thing can be worked so Ago 

‘You see that my father, a man of great experience, does 
not hesitate to support my opinion. So we will say,’’ added 
the notary, taking up his pen: ‘‘ ‘ Frangois-Henri-Pantaléon 
Dumirail, Marquis de Sallenauve, residing with M. Charles 
de Sallenauve, his natural son legitimized by this act, in the 
house known as the Chateau d’Arcis in the district of Arcis- 
sur-Aube, department of the Aube.’’’ And the rest of the 
deed was read without any hitch. 

Then followed a very ridiculous little scene. 

All having signed, while we were still standing there, Jacques 
Bricheteau said— 

‘“Now, M. le Comte, embrace your father.’’ 





214 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


My father opened his arms with no small indifference, and 
I coldly fell into them, vexed with myself, however, for not 
being more deeply moved or feeling in my heart the glow of 
kindred blood. 

The importance of this property as bearing on my election, 
even if I had not been instinctively aware of it, would have 
been made clear to me by a few words that passed between 
the notary and Jacques Bricheteau. After the manner of sellers, 
who will still run up the value of their goods even after they 
have parted with them— 

‘© You may think yourselves lucky,’’ said Achille Pigoult ; 
‘* you have got that estate for a mere song.’’ 

‘« Stuff and nonsense!’’ retorted Bricheteau. ‘‘ How long: 
have you had it on your hands? To anybody else your 
client would have sold it for fifty thousand crowns, but as a 
family property you made us pay for the chance of having it. 
We shall have to spend twenty thousand francs in making it 
habitable ; the ground will hardly return four thousand francs 
a year; so our money, including expenses, will not bring in 
two and a half per cent.”’ 

‘‘What have you to complain of?’’ replied the notary; 
“you will have to employ labor, and that is not bad luck for 
a candidate.’’ 

‘* Ah, that election,’’ said Jacques Bricheteau. ‘‘ We will 
talk that over to-morrow when we come to pay over the 
money for the house, and our debt to you.”’ 

I will now give my ideas some little order ; I begin at that 
half-million of francs spent, as you must allow, on a somewhat 
nebulous dream—that of one day possibly seeing me a minis- 
ter to some imaginary court heaven knows where, the name 
being carefully concealed. 

Why does the man who recognizes me as his son conceal 
the name of the place he lives in, and that by which he him- 
self is known in the unknown northern land where he is said 
to hold office? Why so little confidence and so many sacri- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 215 


fices on my behalf? And does it seem to you that, in spite 
of his lengthy explanations, Jacques Bricheteau has satis- 
factorily accounted for the mystery in which he has wrapped 
my life? Why his dwarf? Why his impudent denial of his 
own identity the first time I addressed him? Why that 
frantic flitting ? 

All this, my dear fellow, whirling in my brain and cul- 
minating in the five hundred thousand francs paid over to 
me by the Brothers Mongenod, seems to lend substance to a 
queer notion, at which you will laugh perhaps, but which is 
not without foundation in the annals of crime. As I said at 
first, I was invaded by it, and its suddenness seems to give it 
the character of an instinctive apprehension. One thing is cer- 
tain: If I had had the most distant inkling of it last evening, 
I would have had my hand cut off sooner than sign that deed, 
binding up my life and fortunes with those of a stranger whose 
destiny may be as dark as a canto of Dante’s ‘‘ Inferno,’’ and 
who may drag me with him into the blackest depths. 

As you may suppose, I have represented to myself every 
argument that can tell against this gloomy view of the case ; 
and if I do not state them here, it is because I wish to have 
them from you, and so give them a value which they would 
cease to have if I had inspired them. Of one thing I am 
certain: I am living in an unwholesome atmosphere, thick 
and heavy ; I want air—I cannot breathe. 

Still, if you can, reassure me, convince me; I shall be only 
glad, as you may well suppose, to find it all a bad dream. 
But, at any rate, no later than to-morrow I mean to have an 
explanation with both these men, and get a little more light 
on the subject than has as yet been vouchsafed me. 


Here is a new aspect to the story: While I was writing I 
heard the clatter of horses in the street. Having grown dis- 
trustful, and inclined to take a serious view of every incident, 
I opened my window, and by the pale light of daybreak I saw 


216 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


at the inn door a post-chaise—horses, postillion, and all— 
ready to start, and Jacques Bricheteau talking to somebody 
inside, whose face was hidden by the peak of his traveling 
cap. I acted at once: I ran downstairs ; but before I reached 
the bottom, I heard the dull clatter of wheels and the ringing 
cracks of the whip—a sort of parting song with all postillions. 

At the foot of the stairs I stood face to face with Jacques 
Bricheteau. 

Not in the least embarrassed, he said, with perfect simplicity: 
‘What! up already, my dear boy ?”’ 

‘© Of course,’’ said I, ‘‘ the least I could do was to say fare- 
well to my most kind father.’’ 

‘* He did not wish it,’’ said the confounded musician, with 
a cool solemnity that made me long to thrash him. ‘‘ He 
was afraid of the agitation of a parting.’’ 

‘‘He is in a devil of a hurry,”’ said I, **if he could not 
spare one day to his brand-new paternity.”’ 

‘What canI say? He isan oddity. He has done what 
he came to do, and he saw no reason to remain any longer.”’ 

‘*To be sure, the high functions he fulfills in that northern 
court 

There could be no mistake as to the deeply ironical tone 
with which I spoke. 

‘Till now,’’ said Bricheteau, ‘‘ you have put more trust 
in us.’’ 

“* Yes, but I confess that my confidence is beginning to be 
shaken by the ponderous mysteries that are so unmercifully 
and incessantly piled upon it.’’ 

“‘T should really be most distressed,’’ said Jacques Briche- 
teau, ‘‘at seeing you give way, at this critical moment, to 
these doubts, which are certainly justified by the way you have 
been dealt with during so many years, if I had none but per- 
sonal arguments or statements to countervail them. But you 
may remember that old Pigoult, last evening, spoke of an aunt 
of mine in these parts, and you will see before long that she 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 217 


is a person of considerable importance. I may add that her 
sacred dignity gives absolute authority to her word. I had 
arranged that we should see her in any case to-day; but give 
me only time to shave myself, and in spite of its being so 
early we will go at once to the Ursuline convent. You can 
then question Mother Marie des Anges, who is regarded as 
a saint throughout the department of the Aube, and by the 
end of the interview, I fancy, no cloud will hang between 
ie 

All the time this strange man was talking his countenance 
was so unmistakably honest and benevolent; his language— 
always calm, elegant, and moderate—is so persuasive to his 
audience, that I felt the tide of my wrath ebbing and my con- 
fidence reviving. 

In fact, the answer was final. The Ursuline convent, bless 
me! cannot be a mint for false coin; and if Mother Marie des 
Anges will answer for my father, as it would seem she has 
already done to the notary, I should be mad to feel any further 
doubts. 

‘Very well,’’ said I, ‘‘I will go upstairs for my hat and 
wait for you on the bank of the river.’’ 

‘‘Doso. And keep an eye on the door of the inn, for fear 
I should make a bolt, as I did from the Quai de Béthune!”’ 


MARIE-GASTON TO MADAME LA COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE. 


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, May 6, 1839. 

MapDaME:—I should in any case have availed myself with 
pleasure of your commands that I should write you during 
my stay here ; but you have no idea how great was your kind- 
ness in granting me so precious a favor. 

Dorlange, whom I shall not continue to call by that name 
—you shall presently learn why—is so much absorbed in the 
cares of his canvass that I scarcely ever see him. I told you, 
madame, that I was about to join our friend here in conse- 

H 


218 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


quence of some disturbance of mind that I was aware of ina 
letter telling me of a great change in his life and prospects. I 
am now allowed to be more explicit on the subject—Dorlange 
at last knows his father. He is the natural son of the Marquis 
de Sallenauve, the last survivor of one of the oldest families of 
this province. The marquis, though giving no explanation 
of the reasons that led to his keeping his son’s birth so pro- 
foundly secret, has just acknowledged him with every legal 
formality. At the same time, he has purchased for him an 
estate which had long since ceased to belong to the Salle- 
nauves, and which will now again be a family possession. It 
is actually in Arcis, and it seems probable that it may be 
advantageous to the electoral schemes just now under discus- 
sion. 

What the ultimate purpose may be of such considerable 
expenditure the marquis has never explained to Charles de 
Sallenauve; and it was this still, hazy horizon to his sky that 
led the poor fellow to such apprehensions that, as a friend, I 
could do no less than hasten to alleviate them. Another 
whim of my lord marquis is having selected as his son’s 
chief elector an old Ursuline nun, bya sort of bargain in 
which subsequently you, madame, were a factor. Yes ; for 
the ‘‘ Sainte-Ursule,’’ for which you unaware were the model, 
will probably have no little influence over our friend’s return 
to the Chamber. 

This is what happened: For many years Mother Marie des 
Anges, superior of the Ursuline Sisters at Arcis-sur-Aube, had 
dreamed of erecting a statue of the patron saint in the con- 
vent chapel. But the abbess, being a woman of taste and cul- 
ture, would have nothing to do with the hawker’s images of 
saints, sold ready-made by the dealers; on the other hand, 
she could not in conscience rob the poor of a sum so consid- 
erable as would pay for a work of art on commission. This 
excellent lady’s nephew is an organist in Paris, and the Mar- 
quis de Sallenauve while he was traveling all over the world 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 219 


had confided his son to this man’s care ; for all these years his 
first object has been to keep the poor boy in absolute ignos 
rance of his birth. When it occurred to him to make Salle- 
nauve a deputy, Arcis was naturally thought of as the place 
where his family was still remembered, and every way and 
means was considered of making acquaintance, and utilizing 
all possible aids to his election. 

Then the organist remembered his aunt’s long-cherished 
ambition; he knew her to have influence in the district, 
where she is in great odor of sanctity, and also a touch of the 
spirit of intrigue, ever ready to rush into an affair that may 
be difficult and arduous. He went to see her with the Marquis 
de Sallenauve’s concurrence, and told her that one of the 
most eminent of Paris sculptors was prepared to offer her a 
statue of the most masterly execution, if she, on her part, 
would undertake to secure his return as deputy for the district 
of Arcis at the next election. 

The old abbess did not think this at all beyond her powers. 
So now she is the proud possessor of the object of her pious 
ambition ; it came safely to hand a few days since, and is 
already in its place in the convent chapel, where, ere long, it 
will be solemnly dedicated. Now it remains to be seen how 
the good mother will perform her share of the bargain. 

Well, madame, strange to say, all things weighed and con- 
sidered, I should not at all wonder if this singular woman 
were to succeed. From the description given me by Charles, 
Mother Marie des Anges is a little woman, short but thick-set, 
with a face that still contrives to be attractive in spite of her 
wrinkles and the saffron-tinted pallor induced by time and by 
the austerities of a cloister. She carries the burden of a stout 
figure and seventy-six years with ease, and is as quick, bright, 
and spirited as the youngest of us. A thoroughly capable 
woman, she has governed her house for fifty years, and it has 
always been the best regulated, the most efficient, and at the 
same time the richest convent in the whole diocese of Troyes. 


220 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


No less well qualified for educating girls—the great end, as 
you know, of the Ursuline Sisterhoods—she has for the same 
length of time, through varying fortunes, managed a lay 
school which is famous in the department and in all the 
country round. Having thus presided over the education of 
almost all the daughters of the better families in the province, 
it is easy to understand that she has ubiquitous influence in 
the aristocratic circles of Champagne, for a well-conducted 
education always leads to permanent friendship between the 
teacher and the pupils. She probably knows very well how 
to turn these family connections to the best advantage in the 
contest she has pledged herself to engage in. 

It would seem, too, that, on the other hand, this remarkable 
woman can absolutely command all the democratic votes in 
the district. So far, indeed, on the scene of the struggle, 
this party has but a sickly and doubtful existence; still, it is by 
nature active and busy, and it is under that flag, with some little 
modifications, that our candidate comes forward. Hence, any 
support from that side is useful and important. You, madame, 
like me, will certainly admire the dzcephalous powers, so to 
speak, of this old abbess, who contrives at the same time to 
be in good odor with the nobility and the secular clergy, while 
wielding the conductor’s stick for the radical party, their per- 
ennial foes. 

Her great influence over the popular party is based on a 
little contest she once had with them. About the year ’93 
that amiable faction proposed to cut off her head. Turned 
out of her convent, and convicted of having sheltered a con- 
tumacious priest, she was imprisoned, brought before the rev- 
olutionary tribunal, and condemned to the guillotine. The 
thing came to Danton’s knowledge ; he was then a member of 
the Convention. Danton had been acquainted with Mother 
Marie des Anges; he believed her to be the most virtuous and 
enlightened woman he had ever seen. On hearing of her 
sentence he flew into a terrific rage, wrote a letter from his 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 221 


“‘high horse’’ to the revolutionary municipality, and com- 
manded a respite with such authority as no man in Arcis 
would have dreamed of disputing. He stood up in the tribune 
that very day; and after alluding in general terms to certain 
sanglants imbéciles whose insane folly was damaging the pros- 
pects of the Revolution, he explained who and what Mother 
Marie des Anges was, spoke of her wonderful gifts for the 
training of the young, and laid before the meeting a sketch 
for a decree by which she was to be placed at the head of a 
Great National Gyneceum, the details to be regulated by sub- 
sequent enactment. 

Robespierre, who would have regarded the Ursuline nun’s 
superior intelligence as an additional qualification for the scaf- 
fold, was not that day present at the sitting ; the motion was car- 
ried with enthusiasm. As Mother Marie des Anges could not 
possibly carry out the decree thus voted without a head on her 
shoulders, she was allowed to retain it, and the executioner 
cleared away his machinery. And though the former decree, 
authorizing the Grand National Gyneczeum, was presently for- 
gotten, the Convention having quite other matters to occupy 
it, the good sister carried it out on her own lines; and instead 
of something Grand, Greek, and National, with the help of 
some of her former associates she started a simple lay school at 
Arcis, to which, as soon as order was to some degree restored 
in the land and in men’s minds, pupils flocked from all the 
neighboring country. 

Under the Emperor, Mother Marie des Anges reconstituted 
her house, and her first act of government was a signal piece 
of gratitude. She decided that on the sth of April every 
year, the anniversary of Danton’s death, mass should be said 
in the convent chapel for the repose of his soul. 

To some who objected to this service for the dead— 

‘‘Do you know many persons,’’ she would reply, ‘ for 
whom it is more necessary to implore Divine mercy ?”’ 

After the Restoration, the performance of this mass became 


222 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


a matter of some little difficulty ; but Mother Marie des Anges 
would never give it up, and the veneration with which she was 
regarded even by those who were most set against what they 
called a scandal, ended in their making the best of it. Under 
the July Revolution, as you may suppose, this courageous 
perversity had its reward. Mother Marie des Anges is now 
in high favor at Court; there is nothing she cannot obtain 
from the most august persons in command; still, it is but fair 
to add that she asks for nothing, not even to help the poor ; 
she finds the means of supplying most of their wants by her 
judicious economy in dealing with the funds of the community. 
What is even more obvious is that her gratitude to the great 
revolutionary leader is a strong recommendation to that party ; 
this, however, is not the whole secret of her influence with 
them. The representative in Arcis of the Extreme Left is a 
wealthy miller, named Laurent Goussard, who owns two or 
three mills on the river Aube. It was this man, formerly a 
member of the revolutionary municipality of Arcis, and a par- 
ticular friend of Danton’s, who wrote that terrible Cordelier 
to tell him of the axe that hung over the Ursuline prioress’ 
head, though this did not hinder that worthy sams-culotte from 
purchasing a large part of the convent lands when they were 
sold as nationalized property. 

Then, when Mother Marie des Anges was enabled to re- 
constitute her sisterhood, Laurent Goussard, who had not as 
it happened found the estate very profitable, came to the 
worthy abbess and proposed to reinstate her in the former 
possessions of the abbey. The goodman was not making a 
bad bargain; the mere difference of value between silver and 
the assignats he had paid in was a handsome turn of profit. 
But Mother Marie des Anges, who had not forgotten that but 
for his intervention Danton could have known nothing, de- 
termined to do better than that for the man who had really 
saved her life. The Ursuline sisterhood, when Laurent Gous- 
sard proposed this arrangement, was, financially speaking, in 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 223 


a flourishing position. Since its reéstablishment it had come 
in for some liberal donations, and the mother superior had 
put away a considerable sum during her long management of 
the lay school ; this she generously handed over for the use of 
the convent. Laurent Goussard was, no doubt, somewhat 
amazed when she spoke to this effect : 

‘‘T cannot accept your offer; I cannot buy at the lowest 
price; my conscience forbids it. Before the Revolution the 
convent lands were valued at so much; this is the price I 
propose to pay, not that to which they were brought down as 
a result of the general depreciation in value of all the national- 
ized lands. In short, my good sir, I mean to pay more—if 
that meets your views.’’ 

Laurent Goussard thought at first that he misunderstood 
her, or had been misunderstood; but when it dawned upon 
him that the mother superior’s scruples of conscience would 
bring him a profit of about fifty thousand francs, he had no 
wish to coerce so delicate a conscience, and pocketing this god- 
send, which had reaily fallen from heaven, he made the aston- 
ishing facts known far and wide ; and this, as you may suppose, 
madame, raised Mother Marie des Anges to such estimation 
in the eyes of every buyer of nationalized lands that she will 
never have anything to fear from any revolution. Personally, 
Laurent Goussard is her fanatical adorer; he never does a 
stroke of business or moves a sack of corn without consulting 
her ; and, as she said jestingly the other day, if she hada 
mind to treat the sub-prefect like John the Baptist, in a 
quarter of an hour Laurent Goussard would bring her that 
official’s head in a sack. Does not that sufficiently prove, 
madame, that at a nod from our abbess he will vote, and get 
all his friends to vote, for the candidate of her choice? 

Mother Marie des Anges has, of course, a wide connection 
among the clergy, both by reason of her habit and her reputa- 
tion for distinguished virtue; and among her most devoted 
allies may be numbered Monseigneur Troubert, the bishop of. 


224 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


the diocese, who, though formerly an adherent of the Con- 
gregation, would, under the dynasty of July, put up with an 
archbishopric as preliminary to the cardinal’s hat. Now if, 
to assist him in this ambition—justified, it must be said, by 
great and indisputable capabilities—Mother Marie des Anges 
were to write a few lines to the Queen, it is probable that his 
promotion would not be too long deferred. But it will be 
give and take. If the Ursuline abbess works for the arch- 
bishopric, Monseigneur de Troyes will work the election. 

Winning the clergy almost certainly secures the Legitimist 
vote, for that party is no less passionately bent on freedom in 
teaching ; and, out of hatred for the new (Orleans) dynasty, 
does not even take fright at seeing that principle in monstrous 
alliance with radical politics. The head of that party in this 
district is the family of Cing-Cygne. The old marquise, 
whose haughty temper and determined will are known to you, 
madame, never comes to the Chateau of Cinq-Cygne without 
visiting Mother Marie des Anges, whose pupil her daughter 
Berthe formerly was—now the Duchesse de Maufrigneuse ; as 
to the duke, he will certainly support us, for, as you know, 
Daniel d’Arthez is a great friend of mine, and through Arthez 
we are certain to secure the interest of the Princesse de 
Cadignan, our handsome duke’s mother, so we may count on 
him. 

If we now turn to a more obdurate party—the Conserva- 
tives, who must not be confounded with the Ministerialists— 
their leader is the Comte de Gondreville, your husband’s 
colleague in the Upper Chamber. At his heels comes a very 
influential voter, his old friend, the former mayor and notary 
of Arcis, who in his turn drags in his train a no less important 
elector, Maitre Achille Pigoult, to whom, on. retiring, he 
sold his connection. But Mother Marie des Anges has a 
strong hold on the Comte de Gondreville through his daugh- 
ter, the Maréchale de Carigliano. ‘This great lady, who, as 
you are aware, is immensely devout, comes every year to the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 225 


Ursuline convent for a penitential retreat. Mother Marie des 
Anges says, moreover, though she gives no explanations, that 
she has a hold on the old count through some circumstances 
known only to herself; and, in fact, this regicide’s career— 
becoming a senator, a count of the Empire, and now a peer 
of France—must have led him through devious and subterra- 
nean ways, making it probable that there have been secret 
passages which he would not care to have brought to light. 
Now, Gondreville is one with Grévin, for fifty years his second 
self and active tool; and even supposing that by some impos- 
sible chance their long union should be severed, at least we 
should be sure of Achille Pigoult, Grévin’s successor as notary 
to the Ursuline sisterhood ; indeed, at the time of the acqui- 
sition of the estate in Arcis by the Marquis de Sallenauve, 
which was effected through him, the purchaser took care to 
pay him a honorarium so large—so e/ectora/—that he pledged 
himself merely by accepting it. 

As to the ruck of the voters, our friend is certain to recruit 
a strong force, since he is about to give them employment on 
the important repairs he proposes to begin at once; for the 
castle, of which he is now the proprietor, is, fortunately, fall- 
ing intu ruin in many places. We may also trust to the effect 
of a magniloquent profession of principles which Charles de 
Sallenauve has just had printed, setting forth in lofty terms 
that he will accept neither favors nor office from the Govern- 
ment. 

You have some kind feeling for me, because the fragrance 
still clings to me of our beloved Louise ; have then some little 
regard for the man whom I have dared to speak of throughout 
this letter as our friend. If indeed, do what he will, he be- 
trays a sort of insufferable greatness, should we not rather pity 
him than call him to a strict account? Do we not know, you 
and I, by cruel experience, that the noblest and most glorious 
lights are those which first sink into the extinction of eternal 
darkness ? 

15 


226 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


MARIE-GASTON TO THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE. 


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, JZay 13, 1839. 


MapDaME :—You, too, have the election fever, and you 
have been good enough to transmit as a message from M. de 
l’Estorade a certain list of dscouragements, which no doubt 
deserve consideration. I may, however, say at once that this 
communication does not seem to me to be so important as 
you, perhaps, think; and even before your official warning 
reached us, the difficulties in our course had not failed to 
occur to us. We knew already of the confidential mission 
undertaken by M. de Trailles, though for some days he tried, 
not very successfully, to disguise it under a pretense of com- 
mercial business. We even knew what you, madame, do not 
seem to have known, that this ingenious instrument of the 
ministerial mind had contrived to combine the care of his 
personal interests with that of party politics. 

M. Maxime de Trailles, if we are correctly informed, was 
not long since on the point of sinking under the last and 
worst attack of a chronic malady from which he has long 
suffered. This malady is Debt—for we do not speak of M. 
de Trailles’ debts, but of his Debt, as of the National Debt of 
England. In extremts, the gentleman, bent on some desperate 
remedy, seems to have hoped for a cure in marriage—a mar- 
riage im extremis, as it might well be called, since he is said 
to be very near fifty. Being well known—that is to say, in 
his case, much depreciated—in Paris, like trades-people whose 
goods are out of date, he packed himself off to the country, 
and unpacked himself at Arcis-sur-Aube just as the fun of the 
election was beginning, wisely supposing that the rather up- 
roarious tumult of this kind of political scrimmage might favor 
the slightly shady character of his proceedings. 

From the point of view of public affairs, M. Beauvisage, 
whose name, madame, you will certainly remember, has the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 227 


immense advantage of having thoroughly beaten and crushed 
the nomination of a little attorney named Simon Giguet, who, 
to the great indignation of the Government, wanted to take 
his seat with the Left Centre. This ousting of a pert upstart 
on the side of the Opposition was thought such an inestimable 
boon, that it led folk to overlook the notorious and indis- 
putable ineptitude of this Beauvisage, and the ridicule which 
his return could not fail to bring on those who should vote 
for his election. 

But then we appeared on the scene. We are of the province ; 
Champions by the name that dropped on us one morning 
from the skies; we make ourselves even more so by acquiring 
land in the district; and, as it happens, the country is bent 
at this election on sending no one to the Chamber but a 
specimen of its own vintage ! 

We are not quite so idiotic as Beauvisage ; we do not in- 
variably make ourselves ridiculous ; we do not, indeed, make 
cotton night-caps, but we make statues for which we have 
earned the Legion of Honor; religious statues, to be dedi- 
cated with much pomp in the presence of Monseigneur the 
Bishop, who will condescend to give an address, and of the 
municipal authorities ; statues which the whole of the town 
—that part of it which is not admitted to the ceremony—is 
crowding to admire at the house of the Ursulines, who are 
vain enough of this magnificent addition to their gem of a 
chapel, and threw open their public rooms and oratory to all 
comers for the whole day—and this you may be sure tends to 
make us popular. 

What contributes even better to this popularity is that we 
are not mean like Beauvisage, and do not hoard our income 
sou by sou; that we are employing thirty workmen at the 
castle—painters, masons, glaziers, gardeners, trellis-makers ; 
and that while the mayor of the town trudges shabbily on 
foot, we are to be seen driving through Arcis in an elegant 
open chaise with two prancing steeds, which our father—not 


228 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


in heaven, but in Paris—anxious to be even more delightful 
at a distance than on the spot, sent hither post-haste, with a 
view, I believe, to snuffing out M. de Trailles’ tilbury and 
tiger. These, I may tell you, before our arrival were the talk 
of the town. 

Yesterday, madame, we drove out in our chaise to the 
Chateau of Cinq-Cygne, where Arthez introduced us to the 
Princesse de Cadignan. ‘That woman is really miraculously 
preserved ; she seems to have been embalmed by the happi- 
ness of her 4azson with the great writer. ‘‘ They are the 
prettiest picture of happiness ever seen,’’ you said, I remem- 
ber, of M. and Mme. de Portenduére ; and you might say the 
same of Arthez and the princess, altering the wo.d ‘ pretty’? 
in consideration of their Indian summer. 

Mme. de Maufrigneuse and the old Marquise de Cinq- 
Cygne were wonderfully kind in their reception of Dorlange 
—Sallenauve, I should say, but I find it difficult to remem- 
ber ; as they are less humble than you are, they were not 
frightened at any loftiness they might meet with in our 
friend, and he, in an interview which was really rather diffi- 
cult, behaved to perfection. It is very strange that after 
living so much alone, he should at once have turned out per- 
fectly presentable. Is it perhaps that the Beautiful, which 
has hitherto been the ruling idea of his life, includes all that 
is pleasing, elegant, and appropriate—things which are gen- 
erally learned by practice as opportunity offers? But this 
cannot be the case, for I have seen very eminent artists, 
especially sculptors, who, outside their studios, were simply 
unendurable. 


May io. 
Yesterday we gave a notable dinner, dear madame ; it was 
a magnificent affair, and will, I fancy, be long talked of in 
Arcis. Sallenauve has in the organist—who, by the way, at 
the ceremony of the statue yesterday, displayed his exquisite 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 229 


talent on the good sister’s organ—a sort of steward and fac- 
totum transcending all the Vatels that ever lived. He is not 
the man to fall on his sword because the fish is late. Colored 
lamps, transparencies, garlands, and drapery to decorate the 
dining-room, even a little packet of fireworks which had been 
stowed in the boot of the chaise by that surly and invisible 
father—who has his good side, however—nothing was wanting 
to the festivities. They were kept up till a late hour in the 
gardens of the castle, to which the A/eds were admitted to 
dance and drink copiously. 

Almost all our guests appeared, excepting those whom we 
had asked merely to compromise them. The invitation was 
so short—a difficulty inevitable and pardonable under the 
circumstances—that it was quite amusing to see notes of 
excuse arriving up to the very dinner hour, for Sallenauve had 
ordered that they should all be brought to him as soon as 
they arrived. And as he opened each letter he took care to 
say quite audibly: ‘‘M. le Sous-préfet—M. le Procureur du 
Roi—The Deputy Judge—expresses his regrets at being unable 
to accept my invitation. 

All these ‘‘ refusals of support’’ were listened to with sig- 
nificant smiles and whispering ; but when a note was brought 
from Beauvisage, and Dorlange read aloud that M. le Maire 
‘found it impossible to correspond to his polite invitation,” 
laughter was loud and long, as much at the matter as the 
manner of the refusal. It ended only on the arrival of a M. 
Martener, examining judge here, who snowed the highest 
courage in accepting this dinner. At the same time, it may 
be noted that an examining judge is in his nature a divisible 
entity. Asa judge he is a permanent official ; all the change 
he can be subject to is that of his title, and the loss of the 
small additional salary he is allowed, with the right to issue 
summonses and catechise thieves, grand privileges of which 
he may be deprived by the fiat of the keeper of the seals. 

In the presence of the Duc de Maufrigneuse, of Arthez, 


230 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


and, above all, of Monseigneur the Bishop, who is spending a 
few days at Cinq-Cygne, one absentee was much commented 
on, though his reply, sent early in the day, was not read to 
the company. ‘This was the old notary Grévin. As to the 
Comte de Gondreville, also absent, nothing could be said; 
the recent death of his grandson Charles Keller prohibited his 
presence at this meeting ; and Sallenauve, by making his invi- 
tation in some sort conditional, had been careful to suggest 
the excuse; but Grévin, the Comte de Gondreville’s right 
hand, who has certainly made greater and more compromising 
efforts for his friend than that of dining out—Grévin’s absence 
seemed to imply that his patron was still a supporter of Beau- 
visage, now almost deserted. And this influence—lying low, in 
sporting phrase—is really of no small importance tous. Maitre 
Achille Pigoult, Grévin’s successor, explained, it is true, that 
the old man lives in complete retirement, and can hardly be 
persuaded to dine even with his son-in-law two or three times 
a year; but the retort was obvious that when the sub-prefect 
had lately given a dinner to introduce the Beauvisage family 
to M. Maxime de Trailles, Grévin had been ready to accept 
his invitation. So there will be some little pull from the 
Gondreville party, and Mother Marie des Anges will, I believe, 
have to bring her secret thrust into play. 

The pretext for the dinner being the dedication of the 
Sainté-Ursule, an event which the sisterhood could not cele- 
brate by a banquet, Sallenauve had a fine opportunity at dessert 
for proposing a toast— 

‘*To the mother of the poor; to the noble and saintly spirit 
which for fifty years has shone on our Province, and to whom 
is due the prodigious number of cultivated and accomplished 
women who adorn this beautiful land !’”’ 

You yourself mentioned to me that your son Armand saw a 
strong resemblance in Sallenauve to the portraits of Danton ; 
it would seem that the remark is true, for I heard it on all 
sides, applied not to the portraits, but to the man himself, by 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 231 


guests who had known the great revolutionary well. Laurent 
Goussard, as the head of a party, had of course been invited. 
He was not only Danton’s friend, he was in a way his brother- 
in-law ; Danton, who was a scapegrace wooer, having paid his 
court for several years to one of the honest miller’s sisters. 
Well, the likeness must in fact be striking ; for after dinner, 
while we were drinking our coffee, the wine of the country 
having mounted a little to the good man’s brain—for there 
had been no stint, as you may suppose—he went up to Salle- 
nauve and asked him point-blank if he could by any chance 
be mistaken as to his father, and if he were sure that Danton 
had had nothing to do with the begetting of him. 

Sallenauve laughed at the idea, and simply did a little sum— 

‘«Danton died on April 5, 1793. To be hisson I must 
have been born in 1794 at the latest, and should be five-and- 
forty now. Now, as the register in which my birth was 
entered—father and mother unknown—is dated 1809, that— 
and I hope my face as well—prove me to be but just thirty.’’ 

‘‘Quite true,’’ said Laurent Goussard, ‘‘the figures bowl 
me over. Never mind; we will elect you all the same.”’ 

And I believe the man is right ; this whimsical likeness will 
be of immense weight in turning the scale of the election. 
And it must not be supposed that Danton is an object of 
execration and horror to the citizens of Arcis, in spite of the 
dreadful associations that surround his memory. In the first 
place, time has softened them, and there yet remains the rec- 
ollection of a strong mind and great brain that they are proud 
of owning in a fellow-countryman. At Arcis curiosities and 
notabilities are scarce ; here the people speak of Danton as at 
Marseilles they would speak of the Cannebiére. 

These voters, extra muros, are sometimes amusingly art- 
less; a little contradiction does not stick in their throat. 
Some agents sent out into the neighboring country have already 
made good use of this resemblance; and as in canvassing the 
Tustics it is more important to strike hard than to strike 


232 THE. DEPCTY #£GR AKC, 


straight, Laurent Goussard’s explanation, apocryphal as it is, 
has gone the round of the rural hamlets with a precision that 
has met with no contradiction. And while this revolutionary 
parentage, though purely imaginary, is serving our friend 
well, on the other hand we say to those worthy voters who 
are to be caught by something at once more accurate and not 
less striking— 

‘‘ He is the gentleman who has just bought the Chateau 
d’Arcis.’’ 

And as the Chateau d’Arcis towers above the town and is 
known to everybody for miles round, it is a sort of landmark; 
and at the same time, with a perennial instinct of reversion to 
old-world traditions, less dead and buried than might be sup- 
posed. 

‘Oho! he is the lord of the chateau,’’ they say, a free but 
respectful version of the idea suggested to them. 

So this, madame, saving your presence, is the procedure in 
the electoral kitchen, and the way to dress and serve up a 
Deputy of the Chamber. 


MARIE-GASTON TO MADAME DE L’ESTORADE. 


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, A/ay 11, 1839. 

MADAME :—Since you do me the honor to say that my 
letters amuse you, I am bound not to be shy of repeating 
them. But is not this a little humiliating ? and when I think 
of the terrible grief which was our first bond of union, is it 
possible that I should be an amusing man all the rest of my 
days? Here, as I have told you, I am in an atmosphere that 
intoxicates me. I have made a passion of Sallenauve’s 
success, and being, as I am, of a gloomy and hopeless nature, 
an even greater passion perhaps of the wish to hinder the | 
triumph of ineptitude and folly under the patronage of base 
interest and intrigue. 

To-day, madame, the grotesque is paramount ; we are on 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 233 


full parade. Notwithstanding M. de 1’Estorade’s discouraging 
warnings, we are led to suppose that the Ministry has not very 
exultant tidings from its agent ; and this is what makes us think 
so: We are no longer at the Hétel de la Poste; we have left 
it for our castle. But, thanks to a long-standing rivalry 
between the two inns, la Poste and le Mulet—where M. de 
Trailles has his headquarters—we still have ample information 
from our former residence; and our host there is all the more 
zealous and willing because I strongly suspect that he had a 
hand, greatly to his advantage I should think, in arranging 
and furnishing the banquet. 

From this man, then, we learn that immediately after our 
departure, a journalist from Paris put up at the hotel. This 
gentleman, whose name I have forgotten—which is well for 
him, considering how glorious a mission he bears—also an- 
nounced that he came as a champion to lend the zs of his 
Parisian wit to the war of words to be opened on us by the 
local press, subsidized by the ‘‘ office of public spirit.’’ So 
far there is nothing very droll or very depressing in the pro- 
ceedings ; ever since the world began Governments have been 
able to find pens for hire, and have never been shy of hiring 
them. Where the comedy begins is at the co-arrival at the 
Hotel de la Poste of a damsel of very doubtful virtue, who is 
said indeed to have accompanied his excellency the Ministerial 
newsmonger. The young lady’s name, by the way, I happen 
to remember: she is designated on her passport as Mademoi- 
selle Chocardelle, of independent means; but the journalist 
in speaking of her never calls her anything but Antonia, or, 
if he yearns to be respectful, Mademoiselle or AZss Antonia. 

But what has brought Mlle. Chocardelle to Arcis? A little 
pleasure trip, no doubt; or perhaps to serve as an escort to 
Monsieur the Journalist, who is willing to give her a share in 
the credit account opened for him on the secret-service fund 
for the daily quota of defamation to be supplied by contract ? 
No, madame. Mlle. Chocardelle has come to Arcis on busi- 


234 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


ness—to recover certain moneys. It would seem that before 
leaving for Africa, where he has met a glorious death, young 
Charles Keller signed a bill in favor of Mlle. Antonia, an 
order for ten thousand francs, value recetved in furniture, a 
really ingenious quibble, the furniture having obviously been 
received by Mlle. Chocardelle, who thus priced the sacrifice 
she made in accepting it at ten thousand francs. At any rate, 
the bill being nearly due, a few days after hearing of the death 
of her debtor Mlle. Antonia called at the Kellers’ office to 
know whether it would be paid. The cashier, a rough cus- 
tomer, as all cashiers are, replied that he did not know how 
Mlle. Antonia could have the face to present such a claim ; 
but that in any case the Brothers Keller, his masters, were at 
present at Gondreville, where all the family had met on hear- 
ing the fatal news, and that he should not pay without refer- 
ring the matter to them. 

“* Very well, I will refer it myself,’’ said the young lady, 
who would not leave her bill to run beyond its date. 

Thereupon, just as she was arranging to set out alone for 
Arcis, the Government suddenly felt a call to abuse us, if not 
more grossly, at any rate more brilliantly than the provincials 
do; and the task of sharpening these darts was confided to a 
journalist of very mature youth, to whom Mlle. Antonia had 
been kind—in the absence of Charles Keller ! 

‘‘Tam off to Arcis!’’ the scrivener and the lady said at 
the same moment; the commonest and simplest lives offer 
such coincidences. So it is not very strange that, having set 
out together, they should have arrived together, and have put 
up at the same inn. 

And now I would beg you to admire’ the concatenation of 
things. Mlle. Chocardelle, coming here with an eye solely 
to finance, the lady has suddenly assumed the highest political 
importance! And, as you will see, her valuable influence will 
amply compensate for the stinging punishment to be dealt us 
by her gallant fellow-traveler. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 235 


In the first place, it appears that on learning that M. de 
Trailles was in Arcis, Mlle. Chocardelle’s remark was— 

‘¢What! he here—that horrid rip?”’ 

The expression is not parliamentary, and I blush as I write 
it. But it refers to previous relations—business relations 
again—between Mlle. Antonia and the illustrious confidant of 
the Ministerial party. M. de Trailles, accustomed as he is to 
pay his court only to ladies of position—who help to reduce 
his debt rather than to add to the burden—once in his life 
took it into his head to be loved not ‘‘ for himself alone,’’ 
and to be useful rather than expensive. He consequently 
bought a circulating library for Mademoiselle Antonia in the 
Rue Coquenard, where for some time she sat enthroned. But 
the business was not a success; a sale became necessary ; and 
M. Maxime de Trailles, with an eye to business as usual, com- 
plicated matters by the purchase of the furniture, which 
slipped through his fingers by the cleverness of a rascal more 
rascally than himself. By these manceuvres Mlle. Antonia 
lost all her furniture, which the vans were waiting to remove ; 
and another young lady—Hortense, also ‘‘ of private means,’’ 
and attached to old Lord Dudley—gained twenty-five louis by 
Antonia’s mishap. 

The journalist has much to do: to write his articles in the 
first place, and to do various small jobs for M. de Trailles, at 
whose service he isto be. Hence Mlle. Antonia is often left 
to herself, and, idle and bored as she is, so bereft of any kind 
of opera, Ranelagh, Boulevard des Italiens, she has found for 
herself a really desperate pastime. Incredible as it seems, 
this amusement is not, after all, utterly incomprehensible, as 
the device of a Parisienne of her class exiled to Arcis. Quite 
close to the Hétel de la Poste is a bridge over the Aube. 
Below the bridge, down a rather steep slope, a path has been 
made leading to the water’s edge, and so far beneath the high 
road—which, indeed, is not much frequented—as to promise 
precious silence and solitude to those who choose to go there 


236 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUZS. 


and dream to the music of the waters. Mlle. Antonia at first 
betook herself to sit there with a book ; but perhaps, from a 
painful association with the remembrance of her reading-room, 
‘¢ books,’’ as she says, ‘‘ are not much in her line;’’ and at 
last the landlady of the inn, seeing how tired the poor soul 
was of herself, happily thought of offering her guest the use 
of a very complete set of fishing-tackle belonging to her hus- 
band, whose multifarious business compels him to leave it for 
the most part idle. 

The fair exile had some luck with her first attempts, and 
took a great liking for the pastime, which is evidently very 
fascinating, since it has so many fanatical devotees; and now 
the few passers-by, who cross the bridge, may admire, on the 
banks of the Aube, a charming water-nymph in flounced 
skirts and a broad-brimmed straw hat, casting her line with the 
conscientious gravity of the most sportsmanlike Paris arab, in 
spite of the changes of our yet unsettled temperature. 

So far so good, and at present the lady’s fishing has not 
much to do with our election; but if you should happen to 
remember in ‘‘ Don Quixote’’—a book you appreciate, mad- 
ame, for the sake of the good sense and mirthful philosophy 
that abound in it—a somewhat unpleasant adventure that be- 
falls Rosinante among the muleteers, you will anticipate, be- 
fore I tell you, the good luck to us that has resulted from 
Mademoiselle Antonia’s suddenly developed fancy. Our 
rival, Beauvisage, is not merely a hosier (retired) and an ex- 
emplary mayor, he is also a model husband, never having 
tripped in the path of virtue, respecting and admiring his 
wife. Every evening, by her orders, he is in bed by ten 
o'clock, while Madame Beauvisage and her daughter go into 
what Arcis is agreed to call Society. But silent waters are 
the deepest, they say, and nothing could be less chaste and 
well regulated than the calm and decorous Rosinante in the 
meeting I have alluded to. In short, Beauvisage, making the 
rounds of Ais town—his laudable and daily habit—standing 





ue 


SS v 








BEAUVISAGE —STANDING ON THE BRIDGE, HAPPENED 
TO REMARK THE DAMSEL, 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 237 


on the bridge, happened to remark the damsel, her arm ex- 
tended with manly vigor, her figure gracefully balanced, ab- 
sorbed in her favorite sport. A bewitching, impatient jerk 
as the fair fisher-maiden drew up the line when she had not a 
nibble, was, perhaps, the electric spark which fired the heart 
of the hitherto blameless magistrate. None, indeed, can tell 
how the matter came about, nor at what precise moment. 

I may, however, observe that in the interval between his 
retirement from the cotton night-cap trade and his election 
as mayor, Beauvisage himself had practiced the art of angling 
with distinguished skill, and would do so still but for his 
higher dignity, which—unlike Louis XIV.—keeps him from 
the shore. It struck him, no doubt, that the poor girl, with 
more good-will than knowledge, did not set to work the right 
way ; and it is not impossible that, as she is temporarily under 
his jurisdiction, the idea of guiding her into the right way was 
the origin of his apparent misconduct. This alone is certain: 
crossing the bridge with her mother, Mlle. Beauvisage, like an 
enfant terrible, suddenly exclaimed— 

“‘ Why, papa is talking to that Paris woman 

To make sure, by a glance, of the monstrous fact; to rush 
down the slope; to face her husband, whom she found beam- 
ing with smiles and the blissful look of a sheep in clover; to 
crush him with a thundering ‘‘ Pray, what are you doing 
here?’’ to leave him no retreat but into the river, and issue 
her sovereign command that he should go—this, madame, was 
the prompt action of Mme. Beauvisage zée Grévin; while 
Mlle. Chocardelle, at first amazed, but soon guessing what 
had happened, went into fits of the most uncontrollable 
laughter. And though these proceedings may be regarded as 
justifiable, they cannot be called judicious, for the catastrophe 
was known to the whole town by the evening, and M. Beau- 
visage, convicted of the most deplorable laxity, saw a still 
further thinning of his reduced phalanx of followers. 

However, the Gondreville-Grévin faction still held its own, 


2? 


238 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


till—would you believe it?—Mlle. Antonia once more was 
the means of overthrowing their last defenses. 

This is the history of the marvel: Mother Marie des Anges 
wished for an interview with the Comte de Gondreville; but 
she did not know how to manage it, as she thought it an ill- 
timed request. Having some severe remarks to make, it 
would seem, she would not ask the old man to visit her on 
purpose ; it was too cruel an offense to charity. Beside, com- 
minations fired point-blank at the culprit miss their aim quite 
as often as they frighten him; whereas observations softly in- 
sinuated are far more certain to have the desired effect. Still, 
time was fleeting ; the election takes place to-morrow—Sun- 
day—and to-night the preliminary meeting isto be held. The 
poor, dear lady did not know which way to turn, when some 
information reached her which was not a little flattering. A 
fair sinner, who had come to Arcis intending to get some 
money out of Keller, Gondreville’s son-in-law, had heard of 
the virtues of Mother Marie des Anges, of her indefatigable 
kindness and her fine old age—in short, all that is said of her 
in the district where she is, next to Danton, the chief object 
of interest; and this minx’s great regret was that she dared 
not ask to be admitted to her presence. 

An hour later, this note was delivered at the Hétel de la 
Poste : 


‘¢ MADEMOISELLE :—I am told that you wish to see me, and 
do not know how. Nothing can be easier: ring at the door 
of my solemn dwelling, ask the sister who opens it for me, do 
not be overawed by my black dress and grave face, nor fancy 
that I force my advice on pretty girls who do not ask it, and 
may one day be better saints than I am. 

‘‘That is the whole secret of an interview with Mother Marie 
des Anges, who greets you in the Lord Jesus Christ. >’ 


As you may suppose, madame, there was no refusing so 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 239 


gracious an invitation, and before long Mlle. Antonia, in the 
soberest garb at her command, was on her way to the convent. 
I much wish I could give you authentic details of the meeting, 
which must have been a curious one ; but nobody was present, 
nor have I been able to hear what report of it was given by 
the wandering lamb, who came away moved to tears. 

When the journalist tried to make fun of her converted 
airs— 

‘There, hold your tongue!’’ said Mlle. Antonia. ‘‘ You 
never in your life wrote such a sentence!’’ 

‘¢ What was the sentence, come?”’ 

“¢¢Go, my child,’ said the good old lady, ‘the ways of 
God are beautiful and little known; there is more stuff to 
make a saint of in a Magdalen than in many a nun,’ ”’ 

And I may add, madame, that as she repeated the words 
the poor girl’s voice broke, and she put her handkerchief to 
her eyes. The journalist—a disgrace to the press, one of 
those wretches who are no more typical of the press than a 
bad priest is of religion—the journalist began to laugh, but 
scenting danger, he added: ‘* And, pray, when do you mean 
really to go to Gondreville to speak to Keller, whom I shall 
certainly end by kicking—in a corner of some article—in 
spite of all Maxime’s instructions to the contrary ?”’ 

‘“‘Am I going to meddle with any such dirty tricks?’’ 
asked Antonia, with dignity. 

‘What? So now you do not mean to present your bill!’’ 

“‘T!’ replied the devotee of Mother Marie des Anges, 
probably echoing her sentiments, but in her own words. ‘‘Z 
try to blackmail a family in such grief? Why, the recollection 
of it would stab me on my death-bed, and I could never hope 
that God would have mercy upon me.”’ 

‘¢ Well, then, become an Ursuline and have done with it.’’ 

‘Tf only I had courage enough, I should perhaps be hap- 
pier; but, at any rate, I will not go to Gondreville. Mother 
Marie des Anges will settle everything.”’ 


240 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢Why, most wretched child, you never left the bill with 
her, eh?”’ 

‘‘T was going to tear it up, but she stopped me, and told 
me to give it to her, and that she would manage to pull me 
through by hook or by crook.”’ 

“‘Oh, very well! You were a creditor—you will be a 
beggar - 

‘““No, for Iam giving alms. I told Madame the Abbess to 
keep the money for the poor.’’ 

‘‘Oh, if you are going to be a benefactress to convents 
with your other vice of angling, you will be pleasant com- 
pany!” 

‘You will not have my company for long, for I am off this 
evening, and leave you to your dirty job.” 

‘‘Halloo! Going to be a Carmelite ?’’ 

‘‘Carmelite is good,’’ retorted Antonia sharply; ‘‘ very 
good, old boy, when I am leaving a Louis XIV.”’ 

For even the most ignorant of these girls all know the 
story of la Valliére, whom they would certainly adopt as 
their patron saint, if Sainte-Louise of mercy had ever been 
canonized. 

Now, how Mother Marie des Anges worked the miracle I 
know not, but the Comte de Gondreville’s carriage was stand- 
ing this morning at the convent gate ; the miracle, be it under- 
stood, consisting not in having brought that old owl out, for 
he hurried off, you may be sure, as soon as he heard of ten 
thousand francs to be paid, though the money was not to 
come out of his purse, but Keller’s—it was the family’s, and 
such misers as he have a horror of other people spending when 
they do not think the money well laid out. But Mother 
Marie des Anges was not content with having got him to the 
convent; she did our business too. On leaving, the peer 
drove to see his friend Grévin; and in the course of the day 
the old notary told a number of persons that really his son-in- 
law was too stupid by half, that he had got himself into ill 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 241 


odor through this affair with the Parisian damsel, and that 
nothing could ever be made of him. .- 

Meanwhile, it was rumored that the priests of the two 
parishes had each received, by the hand of Mother Marie 
des Anges, a sum of a thousand crowns for distribution among 
the poor, given to her by a benevolent person who wished to 
remain unknown. Sallenauve is furious because some of our 
agents are going about saying that he is the anonymous bene- 
factor, and a great many people believe it, though the story 
of Keller’s bill has got about, and it would be easy to trace 
this liberality to the real donor. 

M. Maxime de Trailles cannot get over it, and there is 
every probability that the defeat, which he must now see is 
inevitable, will wreck his prospects of marriage. All that can 
be said with regard to his overthrow is what we always say of 

_an author who has failed—he is a clever man, and will have 
his revenge. 


MARIE-GASTON TO THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE. 


ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, Sunday, May 12, 1839. 


MapamME :—Yesterday evening the preliminary meeting was 
held, a somewhat ridiculous business, and uncommonly dis- 
agreeable for the candidates; however, it had to be faced. 
When people are going to pledge themselves to a representa- 
tive for four or five years, it is natural that they should wish 
to know something about him. Is he intelligent ? Does he 
really express the opinions of which he carries the ticket ? 
Will he be friendly and affable to those persons who may have 
to commend their interests to his care? Has he determina- 
tion? Will he be able to defend his ideas—if he has any ? 
In a word, will he represent them worthily, steadily, and 
truly ? 

But every medal has its reverse; and on the other side we 
may see the voter at such meetings puffed up with arrogance, 

16 


242 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


eager to display the sovereign authority which he is about to 
transfer to his deputy, selling it as dear as he is able. From 
the impertinence of some of the questions put to the candi- 
date, might you not suppose that he was a serf, over whom 
each voter had the power of life and death? ‘There is not a 
corner of his private life which the unhappy mortal can be 
sure of hiding from prying curiosity; as to merely stupid 
questions, anything is conceivable—as ‘‘ Does he prefer the 
wines of Champagne to those of Bordeaux?’’ At Bordeaux, 
where wine is the religion, such a preference would prove a 
lack of patriotism, and seriously endanger his return. Many 
voters attend solely to enjoy the confusion of the nominees. 
They cross-examine them, as they call it, to amuse themselves, 
as children spin a cockchafer; or as of yore old judges 
watched the torture of a criminal, and even nowadays young 
doctors enjoy an autopsy or an operation. Many have not 
even so refined a taste; they come simply for the fun of the 
hubbub, the confusion of voices which is certain to arise 
under such circumstances; or they look forward to an oppor- 
tunity for displaying some pleasing accomplishment ; for in- 
stance, at the moment when—as the reports of the sittings in 
the Chamber have it—the tumult is at its height, it is not un- 
common to hear a miraculously accurate imitation of the 
crowing of a cock, or the yelping of a dog when his foot is 
trodden on. Intelligence, which alone should be allowed to 
vote, having, like d’Aubigné—Mme. de Maintenon’s brother 
—taken its promotion in cash, we cannot be surprised to find 
stupid people among the electors, and indeed they are numer- 
ous enough in this world to have a claim to be represented. 
The meeting was held in a good-sized hall, where a restau- 
rant-keeper gives a dance every Sunday. There is a raised 
gallery for the orchestra, which was reserved as a sort of plat- 
form, to which a few non-voters were admitted ; I was one of 
these privileged few. Some ladies occupied front seats: Mme. 
Marion, the aunt of Giguet the advocate, one of the candi- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 243 


dates; Mme. and Mlle. Mollot, the wife and daughter of the 
clerk of assize; and a few others whose names and position I 
have forgotten. Mme. and Mlle. Beauvisage, like Brutus and 
Cassius, were conspicuous by their absence. 

Giguet was the first candidate to address the meeting, his 
father, the colonel, being in the chair; his speech was long, 
a medley of commonplace ; very few questions were put to 
him to be recorded in this report. Every one felt that the 
real battle was not to be fought here. 

Then M. Beauvisage was called for. Maitre Achille Pigoult 
rose and begged to be allowed to speak, and said— 

‘*M. le Maire has been very unwell since yesterday 
Shouts and roars of laughter interrupted the speaker. 

Colonel Giguet rang the bell, with which he had been duly 
provided, for a long time before silence was restored. At the 
first lull, Maitre Pigoult tried again— 

‘As I had the honor of saying, gentlemen, M. le Maire, 
suffering as he is from an attack, which, though not serious, 


” 


> 








may 
A fresh outbreak, more noisy than the first. Like all old 
soldiers, Colonel Giguet’s temper is neither very long-suffering 
nor altogether parliamentary. He started to his feet, exclaim- 
ing— 

‘Gentlemen, this is not one of Frappart’s balls’’ (the 
name of the owner of the room); ‘‘I must beg you to behave 
with greater decency, otherwise I shall resign the chair.’’ 

It is supposed that a body of men prefer to be rough-ridden, 
for this exhortation was received with applause, and silence 
seemed fairly well restored. 

‘©As I was saying, to my regret,’’ Maitre Achille began 
once more, varying his phrase each time, ‘‘ having a tiresome 
indisposition which, though not serious, will confine him to 
his room for some days “ 

‘* Loss of voice !’’ said somebody. 

‘‘Our excellent and respected mayor,’’ Achille Pigoult 





244 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


went on, heedless of the interruption, ‘‘ could not have the 
pleasure of attending this meeting. However, Madame Beau- 
visage, whom I had the honor of seeing but just now, told me, 
and commissioned me to tell you, that for the present M. 
Beauvisage foregoes the honor of claiming your suffrages, beg- 
ging such gentlemen as had expressed their interest in his 
election to transfer their votes to M. Simon Giguet.’’ 

This Achille Pigoult is a very shrewd individual, who had 
very skillfully brought about the intervention cf Mme. Beau- 
visage, thus emphasizing her conjugal supremacy. ‘The as- 
sembly were, however, too thoroughly provincial to appreciate 
this dirty little trick. In the country women are constantly 
mixed up with their husbands’ concerns, even the most mas- 
culine; and the old story of the priest’s housekeeper, who 
replied quite seriously: ‘‘We cannot say mass so cheap as 
that,’’ has to us a spice of the-absurd which in many small 
towns would not be recognized. 

Finally, Sallenauve rose, and after briefly enumerating the 
facts which tie him to the district, and alluding with skill and 
dignity to his birth, as ‘* not being the same as most people’s,’’ 
monsieur set forth his political views. He esteems a republic 
as the best form of government, but believes it impossible to 
maintain in France; hence he cannot wish for it. He believes 
that really representative government, with the politics of the 
camarilla so firmly muzzled that there is nothing to be feared 
from its constant outbreaks and incessant schemes, may tend 
largely to the dignity and prosperity of a nation. Liberty 
and Equality, the two great principles which triumphed in 
"89, have the soundest guarantees from that form of govern- 
ment. As to the possible trickery that kingly power may 
bring to bear against them, institutions cannot prevent it. 
Men and the moral sense, rather than the laws, must be on 
the alert in such a case; and he, Sallenauve, will always be 
one of these living obstacles. He expressed himself as an 
ardent supporter of freedom in teaching, said that in his opin- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 245 


ion further economy might be brought to bear on the budget, 
that there were too many paid officials in the Chamber, and 
that the Court especially was too strongly represented. The 
electors who should vote for him were not to expect that he 
would ever take any step in their behalf which was not based 
on reason and justice. It had been said that the word ‘‘ im- 
possible’? was not French. Yet there was one impossibility 
that he recognized, and by which he should always feel it an 
honor to be beaten, namely, any infringement of justice or 
the least attempt to defeat the right. (Loud applause. ) 

Silence being restored, one of the electors spoke— 

‘*Monsieur,’’ said he, after due license from the chairman, 
‘¢ you have said that you will accept no office from the Govern- 
ment. Is not that by implication casting a slur on those who 
are in office? My name is Godivet ; I am the town registrar ; 
I do not therefore conceive myself open to the scorn of my 
respected fellow-citizens.”’ 

Said Sallenauve— 

‘“*T am delighted, monsieur, to hear that the Government 
has conferred on you functions which you fulfill, I am sure, 
with perfect rectitude and ability. But may I inquire whether 
you were from the first at the head of the office you manage ?’”’ 

‘‘Certainly not, monsieur. I was for three years super- 
numerary ; I then rose through the various grades; and I may 
honestly say that my modest promotion was never due to 
favor.’’ 

‘* Well, then, monsieur, what would you say if I, with my 
title as deputy—supposing me to secure the suffrages of the 
voters in this district—I, who have never been a super- 
numerary, and have passed no grade, who should have done 
the Ministry no service but that of voting on its side—if I 
were suddenly appointed to be director-general of your 
department—and such things have been seen? ”’ 

‘*T should say—I should say, monsieur, that the choice was 
a good one, since the King would have made it.”’ 


246 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘*No, monsieur, you would not say so; or if you said it 
aloud, which I cannot believe possible, you would think to 
yourself that such an appointment was ridiculous and unjust. 
‘Where the deuce did the man learn the difficult business of 
an office when he has been a sculptor all his life ?’ you would 
- ask. And you would be right not to approve of the royal 
' caprice; for acquired rights, long and honorable service, and 
the regular progression of advancement would be nullified by 
this system of selection by the sovereign’s pleasure. And it 
is to show that I disapprove of the crying abuse I am de- 
nouncing; it is because I do not think it just, or right, or 
advantageous that a man should be thus raised over other 
men’s heads to the highest post in the public service, that I 
pledge myself to accept no promotion. And do you still 
think, monsieur, that I am contemning such functions? Do 
I not rather treat them with the greatest respect ?’’ 

M. Godivet expressed himself satisfied. 

‘‘But look here, sir,’’ cried another elector, after request- 
ing leave in a somewhat vinous voice, ‘‘ you say you will 
never ask for anything for your electors; then what good will 
you be to us?”’ 

‘«T never said, my good friend, that I would ask for nothing 
for my constituents; I said I would ask for nothing but what 
was just. That, I may say, I will demand with determination 
and perseverance, for justice ought always to be thus served.’’ 

‘*Not but what there are other ways of serving it,’’ the man 
went on. ‘For instance, there was that lawsuit what they 
made me lose against Jean Remy—we had had words, you 
see, about a landmark ke 

“‘Well,’’ said Colonel Giguet, interposing, ‘‘ you are not, 
I suppose, going to tell us the history of your lawsuit and 
speak disrespectfully of the magistrates ?’’ 

‘‘The magistrates, colonel? I respect them, which I was 
a member of the municipality for six weeks in ’93, and I 
know the law. But to come back to my point. I want to 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUS. 247 


ask the gentleman, who is here to answer me just as much as 
the others, what is his opinion of the licensed tobacco jobs.’’ 

‘¢ My opinion of tobacco licenses? That would be a little 
difficult to state briefly. However, I may go so far as to say 
that, if I am correctly informed, they do not seem to me to 
be always judiciously granted.’’ 

‘‘ Well done you! You are a man!”’ cried the voter, 
*€and I shall vote for you, for they won’t make a fool of you 
in a hurry. I believe you; the tobacco licenses are given 
away anyhow. Why, there is Jean Remy’s girl—a bad neigh- 
bor he was; he has never been a yard away from his plough 
tail, and he fights with his wife every day of the week, and 
beside 

‘‘But, my good fellow,’’ said the chairman, interrupting 
him, ‘‘ you are really encroaching on these gentlemen’s pa- 
tience a 

‘No, no; let him speak !’’ was shouted on all sides. 

The man amused them, and Sallenauve gave the colonel to 
understand that he too would like to know what the fellow 
was coming to. So the elector went on— 

‘Then what I say is this, saving your presence, my dear 
colonel, there was that girl of Jean Remy’s—and I will never 
give him any peace, not even in hell, for my landmark was in 
its right place and your experts were all wrong—well, what 
does the girl do? There she leaves her father and mother, 
and off she goes to Paris: what is she up to in Paris? Well, 
I didn’t go to see; but if she doesn’t scrape acquaintance 
with a member of the Chamber, and at this day she has a 
licensed tobacco store in the Rue Mouffetard, one of the 
longest streets in Paris; whereas, if I should kick the bucket 
to-day or to-morrow, there is my wife, the widow of a hard- 
working man, crippled with rheumatism all along of sleeping 
in the woods during the terror of 1815—and where’s the 
tobacco license she would get, I should like to know !”’ 

‘¢ But you are not dead yet,’’ said one and another in reply 





? 





248 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


to this wonderful record of service. And the colonel, to put 
an end to this burlesque scene, gave the next turn to a little 
pastrycook, a well-known Republican. 

The new speaker asked Sallenauve in a high falsetto voice 
this insidious question, which at Arcis indeed may be called 
national. 

‘* What, sir, is your opinion of Danton ?’”’ 

‘‘Monsieur Dauphin,’’ said the president, ‘‘I must be 
allowed to point out to you that Danton is now a part of 
history.”’ 

‘‘The Pantheon of History, Monsieur le Président, is the 
proper term.’’ 

‘‘Well, well!—History, or the Pantheon of History— 
Danton seems to me to have nothing to do with the matter 
in hand.”’ 

‘* Allow me, Mr. President,’’ said Sallenauve. ‘‘ Though 
the question has apparently no direct bearing on the objects 
of this meeting, still, in a town which still rings with the 
fame of that illustrious name, I cannot shirk the opportunity 
offered me for giving a proof of my impartiality and inde- 
pendence by pronouncing on that great but unhappy man’s 
memory.”’ 

“‘Yes, yes! hear, hear!’’ cried the audience, almost unani- 
mously. 

“‘T am firmly convinced,’’ Sallenauve went on, ‘‘that if 
Danton had lived in times as calm and peaceful as ours, he 
would have been—as indeed he was—a good husband, a good 
father, a warm and faithful friend, an attaching and amiable 
character, and that his remarkable talents would have raised 
him to an eminent position in the State and in society.’’ 

‘‘ Hear, hear! bravo! capital!’’ 

‘*Born, on the contrary, at a period of great troubles, in 
the midst of a storm of unchained and furious passions, Dan- 
ton, of all men, was the one to blaze up in this atmosphere of 
flame. Danton was a burning torch, and his crimson glow 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 249 


was only too apt for such scenes of blood and horror as I will 
not now remind you of. | 

‘* But, it has been said, the independence of the nation had 
to be saved ; traitors and sneaks had to be punished ; in short, 
a sacrifice had to be consummated, terrible but necessary for 
the requirements of public safety. Gentlemen, I do not ac- 
cept this view of the matter. To kill wholesale, and, as has 
been proved twenty times over, without any necessity—to kill 
unarmed men, women, and prisoners is under any hypothesis 
an atrocious crime; those who ordered it, those who allowed 
it, those who did the deed are to me included in one and the 
same condemnation ! 

‘*Still,’’ he went on, ‘‘there are two possible sequels to a 
crime committed and irreparable—repentance and expiation. 
Danton expressed his repentance not in words, he was too 
proud for that—he did better, he acted; and at the sound of 
the knife of the head-cutting machine, which was working 
without pause or respite, at the risk of hastening his turn to 
lose his own, he ventured to move for a Committee of Clem- 
ency. It was an almost infallible way of inviting expiation, 
and when the day of expiation came we all know that he did 
not shrink! By meeting his death as a reward for his brave 
attempt to stay the tide of bloodshed, it may be said, gentle- 
men, that Danton’s figure and memory are purged of the 
crimson stain that the terrible September had left upon them. 
Cut off at the age thirty-five, flung to posterity, Danton dwells 
in our memory as a man of powerful intellect, of fine private 
virtues, and of more than one generous action—these, then, 
were himself; his frenzied crimes were but from the contagion 
of the age. 

‘In short, in speaking of such a man as he was, the justice 
is most unjust which is not tempered with large allowances— 
and, gentlemen, there is a woman who understood and pro- 
nounced on Danton better than you or I, better than any 
orator or historian—the woman who, in a sublime spirit of 


i 


250 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


charity, said to the relentless, ‘He iswith God! Let us pray 
for the peace of his soul!’ ”’ 

The snare thus avoided by this judicious allusion to Mother 
Marie des Anges, the meeting seemed satisfied, and we might 
fancy that the candidate was at the end of his examination. 
The colonel was preparing to call for a show of hands when 
several voters demurred, saying that there were still two mat- 
ters requiring explanation by the nominee—Sallenauve had 
said that he would always stand in the way of any trickery 
attempted by the sovereign authority against national institu- 
tions. What were they to understand by resistance; did he 
mean armed resistance, riots, barricades? 

‘‘ Barricades,’’ said Sallenauve, ‘“‘have always seemed to 
me to be machines which turn and crush those who erected 
them ; nay, we are bound to believe that it is in the nature of 
a rebellion to serve, ultimately, the purpose of the Govern- 
ment, since on every occasion the police is presently accused 
of beginning it. The resistance I shall offer will always be 
legal, and carried on by lawful means—the press, speeches in 
the Chamber, and patience—the real strength of the oppressed 
and vanquished.’’ 

If you knew Latin, madame, I would say: ‘‘/x cauda vene- 
num,’’ that is to say, that the serpent’s poison is in its tail— 
a statement of the ancients which modern science has failed 
to confirm, 

M. de 1’Estorade was not mistaken: Sallenauve’s private 
life was made a matter of prying inquiry; and, under the 
inspiration, no doubt, of Maxime, the virtuous Maxime, who 
had flung out several hints through the journalist intrusted 
with his noble plot, our friend was at last questioned as to the 
handsome Italian he keeps ‘‘ hidden ’’ in his house in Paris. 
When a body of men are assembled together, madame, as your 
husband may have told you, they are like grown-up children, 
who are only too glad to hear a long story 





‘ THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 251 


SALLENAUVE TO MADAME DE L’ESTORADE. 


Seven o'clock in the evening. 


MapDAME:—The rather abrupt manner of my leave-taking 
when I bade you and M. de 1’Estorade farewell, that night 
after our excursion to the Collége Henri IV., is by now quite 
accounted for, no doubt, by the anxieties of every kind that 
were agitating me; Marie-Gaston, I know, has told you the 
result. I must own that in the state of uneasy excitement in 
which I then was, the belief which M. de 1’Estorade seemed 
inclined to give to the scandal he spoke of caused me both 
pain and surprise. ‘‘What,’’ thought I to myself, ‘is it 
possible that a man of so much moral and commonsense as 
M. de 1’Estorade can &@ prior? suppose me capable of loose 
conduct, when on all points he sees me anxious to give my 
life such gravity and respectability as may command esteem? 
And_if he has such an opinion of my libertine habits, it would 
be so amazingly rash to admit me on a footing of intimacy in 
his house with his wife, that his present politeness must be 
essentially temporary and precarious.”’ 

As to M. de 1’Estorade, I was, I confess, nettled with him, 
finding him so recklessly ready to echo a calumny against 
which I thought he might have defended me, considering the 
nature of the acquaintance we had formed, so to him I would 
not condescend to explain: this I now withdraw, but at the 
time it was the true expression of very keen annoyance. 

The chances of an election contest have necessitated my 
giving the explanation, in the first instance, to a public meet- 
ing, and I have been so happy as to find that men in a mass 
are more capable perhaps than singly of appreciating a gen- 
erous impulse and the genuine ring of truth. I was called 
upon, madame, under circumstances so unforeseen and so 
strange as to trench very nearly on the ridiculous, to make a 
statement of almost incredible facts to an audience of a very 
mixed character. 


252 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


This is my story, very much as I told it to my constituents 
at their requisition— 

Some months before I left Rome, we received a visit 
almost every evening in the café where the Academy pupils 
are wont to meet from an Italian named Benedetto. He 
called himself a musician, and was not at all a bad one; but 
we were warned that he was also a spy in the employment of 
the Roman police, which accounted for his constant regularity 
and his predilection for our company. At any rate, he was a 
very amusing buffoon; and as we cared nota straw for the 
Roman police, we were more than tolerant of the fellow ; we 
tempted him to frequent the place—a matter of no great 
difficulty, since he had a passion for zabajon, poncio spongato, 
and spuma di latte. 

One evening as he came in, he was asked by one of our 
party who the woman was with whom he had been seen walk- 
ing that morning. 

‘«My wife, signor!’’ said the Italian, swelling with pride. 

‘‘ Yours, Benedetto? You the husband of such a beauty?”’ 

“Certainly, by your leave, signor.’’ 

“‘What next! You are stumpy, ugly, atoper. And it is 
said that you are a police agent into the bargain ; she, on the 
other hand, is as handsome as the huntress Diana.”’ 

‘‘T charmed her by my musical gifts; she dies of love for 
Tes 

‘‘Well, then, if she is your wife, you ought to let her pose 
for our friend Dorlange, who at this moment is meditating a 
statue of Pandora. He will never find such another model.’’ 

«« That may be managed,’’ replied the Italian. 

And he went off into the most amusing tomfoolery, which 
made us all forget the suggestion that had been made. 

I was in my studio next morning, and with me certain 
painters and sculptors, my fellow-pupils, when Benedetto 
came in, and with him a remarkably beautiful woman. I 
need not describe her to you, madame ; you have seen her. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 253 


A cheer of delight hailed the Italian, who said, addressing 
me: 

“* Ecco la Pandora /* Well, what do you think of her?”’ 

‘¢ She is beautiful ; but will she sit ?”’ 

‘‘Pooh!’’ was Benedetto’s reply, as much as to say, ‘‘I 
should like to see her refuse.”’ 

‘«< But,” said I, ‘*so perfect a model will want high pay.”’ 

‘*No, the honor is enough. But you will make a bust of 
me—a terra-cotta head—and make her a present of it.’’ 

‘¢ Well, then, gentlemen,’’ said I to the others, ‘* you will 
have the goodness to leave us to ourselves.” 

No one heeded ; judging of the wife by the husband, all 
the young scapegraces crowded rudely round the woman, 
who, blushing, agitated, and scared by all these eyes, looked 
rather like a caged panther baited by peasants at a fair. Bene- 
detto went up and took her aside to explain to her in Italian 
that the French signor wanted to take her likeness at full 
length, and that she must dispense with her garments. She 
gave him one fulminating look and made for the door. Bene- 
detto rushed forward to stop her, while my companions—the 
virtuous brood of the studio—barred the way. 

A struggle began between the husband and wife; but as I 
saw that Benedetto was defending his side of the argument 
with the greatest brutality, I flew into a passion; with one 
arm, for I am luckily pretty strong, I pushed the wretch off, 
and turning to the youths with a determined air—‘‘ Come,”’ 
said I, ‘‘let her pass!’’ I escorted the woman, still quiver- 
ing with anger, to the door. She thanked me briefly in 
Italian, and vanished without further hindrance. 

On returning to Benedetto, who was gesticulating threats, 
I told him to go, that his conduct was infamous, and that if I 
should hear that he had ill-treated his wife, he would have an 
account to settle with me. 

‘* Debole /’’ (idiot !) said the wretch with a shrug. 


* Behold your Pandora, 


254 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


But he went, followed, as he had been welcomed, by a 
cheer. 

Some days elapsed. We saw no more of Benedetto, and at 
first were rather uneasy. Some of us even tried to find him 
in the Trastevere suburb, where he was known to live; but 
research in that district is not easy; the French students are 
in ill-odor with the Trasteverini, who always suspect them of 
schemes to seduce their wives and daughters, and the men are 
always ready with the knife. 

By the end of the week no one, as you may suppose, ever 
thought of the buffoon again, 

Three days before I left Rome his wife came into my studio. 
She could speak a little bad French. 

‘You go to Paris,’’ said she. ‘‘I come to go with you.”’ 

‘‘Go with me? And your husband ?”’ 

‘¢ Dead,’’ said she calmly. 

An idea flashed through my brain. 

«‘And you killed him?’’ said I to the Trasteverina. She 
nodded— 

‘«‘But I try to killed me too.” 

“‘How?”’ asked I. 

‘« After he had so insult me,’’ said she, ‘‘ he came to our 
house, he beat me like always, and then went out all day. 
The night he came back and showed me a pistol-gun. I 
snatch it away ; he is drunk; I throw that d7zccone (wretch) on 
bed; and he gotosleep. Then I stuff up the door and the 
window, and I put much charcoal on a drasero, and I light it; 
and I havea great headache, and then I know nothing till the 
next day. The neighbors have smell the charcoal, and have 
make me alive again—but he—he is dead before.”’ 

‘¢ And the police ?’”’ 

‘The police know; and that he had want to sell me to an 
English. For that he had want to make me vile to you, then 
I would not want to resist. The judge he tell me go—quite 
right. So I have confess, and have absolution.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARKCIS, 255 


‘‘But, cara mia, what can you do in France? Iam not 
rich as the English are.’’ 

A scornful smile passed over her beautiful face. 

*‘T shall cost you nothing,’’ said she. ‘On the contrary, 
I shall save much money.”’ 

‘‘How?’’ said I. 

‘**T will be the model for your statues; yes, I am willing. 
Benedetto used to say I was very well made and a very good 
house-wife. If Benedetto would have agreed, we could have 
lived happily, Aerche I have a talent too.’’ 

And taking down a guitar that hung in a corner of my 
studio, she sang a dvravura air, accompanying herself with im- 
mense energy. 

‘‘In France,’’ she said when it was finished, ‘‘ I shall have 
iessons and go on the stage, where I shall succeed—that was 
Benedetto’s plan.’’ 

‘¢But why not go on the stage in Italy?” 

«¢ Since Benedetto died, I am in hiding; the Englishman 
wants to carry me off. I mean to go to France; as you see, I 
have been learning French. If I stay here, it will be in the 
shiber:”? 

M. de 1’Estorade will admit that by abandoning such a 
character to its own devices, I might fear to be the cause of 
some disaster, so I consented to allow Signora Luigia to 
accompany me to Paris. I gave my housekeeper a singing 
master, and she is now ready to appear in public. 

In spite of her dreams of the stage, she is pious, as all 
Italian women are; she has joined the fraternity of the Virgin 
at Saint-Sulpice, my parish church, and during the month of 
Mary, now a few days old, the good woman who lets chairs 
counts on arich harvest from her fine singing. She attends 
every service, confesses and communicates frequently; and 
her director, a highly respectable old priest, came to me lately 
to beg that she might no longer serve as the model for my 
statues, saying that she would never listen to his injunctions 


256 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


on the subject, fancying her honor pledged to me. I yielded, 
of course, to his representations, all the more readily because 
in the event of my being elected, as seems extremely probable, 
I intend to part with this woman. In the more conspicuous 
position which I shall then fill, she would be the object of 
comments not less fatal to her reputation and prospects than 
to my personal dignity. 

I have spoken with Marie-Gaston of the difficulty I antici- 
pate in the way of this separation. He fears it, he says, even 
more than I. Hitherto, to this poor soul, Paris has been my 
house, and the mere idea of being cast alone into the whirl- 
pool which she has never even seen, is enough to terrify her. 
One thing struck Marie-Gaston in this connection. He does 
not think that the intervention of the confessor can be of any 
use; the girl, he says, would rebel against the sacrifice if she 
thought it was imposed on her by rigorous devotion. 

Marie-Gaston is of opinion that the intervention and coun- 
sels of a person of her own sex, with a high reputation for 
virtue and enlightenment, might in such a case be more effica- 
cious, and he declares that I know a person answering to this 
description, who, at our joint entreaty, would consent to under- 
take this delicate negotiation. But, madame, I ask you what 
apparent chance is there that this notion should be realized ? 
The lady to whom Marie-Gaston alludes is to me an acquaint- 
ance of yesterday; and one would hardly undertake such a 
task even for an old friend. I know you did me the honor 
to say some little while since that some acquaintanceships 
ripen fast. And Marie-Gaston added that the lady in question 
was perfectly pious, perfectly kind, perfectly charitable, and 
that the idea of being the patron saint of a poor deserted 
creature might have some attractions for her. In short, 
madame, on our return we propose to consult you, and you 
will tell us whether it may be possible to ask for such valuable 
assistance. 

By this time to-morrow, madame, I shall have met with a 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 257 


repulse which will send me back, once for all, to my work as 
an artist, or I shall have my foot set on a new path. Need I 
tell you that I am anxious at the thought? The effect of the 
unknown, no doubt. 

I had almost forgotten to tell you a great piece of news 
which will be a protection to you against the récochet of cer- 
tain projectiles. I confided to Mother Marie des Anges—of 
whom Marie-Gaston had told you wonders—all my suspicions 
as to some violence having been used toward Mlle. Lanty, 
and she is sure that in the course of no very long time she 
can discover the convent where Marianina is probably de- 
tained. 


MARIE-GASTON TO THE COMTESSE DE L’ESTORADE. 
ARCIS-SUR-AUBE, May 13, 1839. 


We have had a narrow escape, madame, while sleeping. 
And those blundering rioters, of whose extraordinary out- 
break we have news to-day by telegraph, for a moment im- 
periled our success. No sooner was the news of the rising in 
Paris yesterday known, through the bills posted by order of 
the sub-prefect, than it was cleverly turned to account by the 
ministerial party. 

‘‘ Elect a democrat if you will!’’ they cried on all sides, 
‘‘that his speeches may make the cartridges for insurgent 
muskets !’’ 

This argument threw our phalanx into disorder and doubt. 
Fortunately, as you may remember, a question—not appar- 
ently so directly to the point—had been put to Sallenauve at 
the preliminary meeting, and there was something prophetic 
in his reply. 

Jacques Bricheteau had the happy thought of getting a little 
handbill printed and widely distributed forthwith; 


17 


258 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


**aA RIOT WITH HARD FIGHTING TOOK PLACE YESTERDAY 
IN PARIS. 


‘* Questioned as to such criminal and desperate methods of 
opposition, one of our candidates, M. de Sallenauve, at the 
very hour when those shots were being fired, was using these 
very words ’’—followed by some of Sallenauve’s speech, which 
I reported to you. Then came, in large letters: 


‘‘THE RIOT WAS SUPPRESSED; WHO WILL BENEFIT BY IT ?’”?’ 


This little bill did wonders, and balked M. de Trailles’ 
supreme effort, though, throwing aside his incognito, he spent 
the day speechifying in white gloves in the market-place and 
at the door of the polling-room. 

This evening the result is known: Number of voters, 2o1. 


Beauvisage : : ‘ : 2 
Simon Giguet . : . ; 29 
Sallenauve 3 3 : mee (yo) 


Consequently M. Charles de Sallenauve is elected 


DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 





PART III. 


THE COMTE DE SALLENAUVE. 


On the evening of the day following the election that had 
ended so disastrously for his vanity, Maxime de Trailles re- 
turned to Paris. 

On seeing him make a hasty toilet and order his carriage as 
soon as he reached home, it might have been supposed that 
he was going to call on the Comte de Rastignac, minister of 
Public Works, to give an account of his mission and explain 
its failure; but a more pressing interest seemed to claim his 
attention. 

“To Colonel Franchessini’s,’’ said he to the coachman. 

When he reached the gate of one of the prettiest houses in 
the Bréda quarter, the concierge, to whom he nodded, gave 
M. de Trailles the significant glance which conveyed that 
‘¢monsieur was within.’’ And at the same moment the por- 
ter’s bell announced his arrival to the manservant who opened 
the hall door. 

‘<Ts the colonel visible ?’’ said he. 

‘‘He has just gone in to speak to madame. Shall I tell 
him you are here, Monsieur le Comte ?”’ 

‘*No, you need not do that. I will wait in his study.’’ 

And, without requiring the man to lead the way, he went 
on, as one familiar with the house, into a large room with 
two windows opening on a level with the garden. This study, 
like the Bologna lute included in the ‘‘ Avare’s’’ famous in- 
ventory, was ‘‘ fitted with all its strings, or nearly all;’’ in 
other words, all the articles of furniture which justified its 
designation, such as a writing-table, bookcases, maps, and 
globes, were there, supplemented by other and very hand- 
some furniture; but the colonel, an ardent sportsman, and 

(259) 


260 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


one of the most energetic members of the Jockey Club, had 
by degrees allowed this sanctuary of learning and science to 
be invaded by the appurtenances of the smoking-room, the 
fencing-school, and the harness-room. Pipes and weapons of 
every form, from every land, including the wild Indian’s club, 
saddles, hunting-crops, bits and stirrups of every pattern, fenc- 
ing-masks, and boxing-gloves, lay in strange and disorderly 
confusion. However, by thus surrounding himself with the 
accessories of his favorite occupations and studies, the colonel 
showed that he had the courage of his opinions. In fact, in 
his opinion no reading was endurable for more than a quarter 
of an hour, unless indeed it were the ‘‘ Stud Journal.”’ 

It must be supposed, however, that politics had made their 
way into his life, devoted as it was to the worship of muscular 
development and equine science, for Maxime found strewn 
on the floor most of the morning’s papers, flung aside with 
contempt when the colonel had looked them through. From 
among the heap M. de Trailles picked up the ‘‘ National,” 
and his eye at once fell on these lines, forming a short para- 
graph on the front page— 


‘Our side has secured a great success in the district of 
Arcis-sur-Aube. In spite of the efforts of local functionaries, 
supported by those of a special agent sent by the Government 
to this imperiled outpost, the Committee is almost entirely 
composed of the adherents of the most advanced Left. We 
may therefore quite confidently predict the election to-morrow 
of M. Dorlange, one of our most distinguished sculptors, a 
man whom we have warmly recommended to the suffrages of 
our readers. They will not be surprised at seeing him re- 
turned, not under the name of Dorlange, but as Monsieur 
Charles de Sallenauve. 

‘« By an act of recognition, signed and witnessed on May 
2d, at the office of Maitre Achille Pigoult, notary at Arcis, 
M. Dorlange is authorized to take and use the name of one of 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 261 


the best families in Champagne, to which he did not till then 
know that he belonged. But Dorlange or Sallenauve, the new 
deputy is one of US, a fact of which the Government will 
ere long be made aware in the Chamber.”’ 


Maxime tossed the sheet aside with petulant annoyance and 
picked up another. This was an organ of the Legitimist party. 
In it he read under the heading of Elections— 


‘¢The staff of the National Guard and the Jockey Club, 
who had several members in the last Chamber of Deputies, 
have just sent one of their most brilliant notables to the 
newly elected Parliament, of which the first session is about 
to open. Colonel Franchessini, so well known for his zealous 
prosecution of National Guards who shirk service, was elected 
almost unanimously for one of the rotten boroughs of the 
Civil List. It is supposed that he will take his seat with the 
phalanx of the aides-de-camp, and that in the Chamber, as in 
the office of the staff, he will be a firm and ardent supporter 
of the policy of the status guo.”’ 


As Maxime got to the end of this paragraph the colonel 
came in. 

Colonel Franchessini, for a short time in the Imperial 
army, had, under the Restoration, figured as a dashing officer ; 
but in consequence of some little clouds that had tarnished 
the perfect brightness of his honor, he had been compelled 
to resign his commission, so that in 1830 he was quite free to 
devote himself with passionate ardor to the ‘‘ dynasty of July.”’ 
He had not, however, reéntered the service, because, not long 
after his little misadventure, he had found great consolation 
from an immensely rich Englishwoman who had allowed her- 
self to be captivated by his handsome face and figure, at that 
time worthy of Antinous, and had annexed him as her hus- 
band. He had ultimately resumed his epaulettes as a member 


262 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


of the staff of the citizen militia. He had revealed himself in 
that position as the most turbulent and contentious of swash- 
bucklers, and by the aid of the extensive connections secured 
to him by his wealth and this influential position, he had now 
pushed his way—the news was correct—into a seat in the 
Chamber. 

‘¢ Well, Maxime,’”’ said he, holding out a hand to his ex- 
pectant visitor, ‘‘ from where in the devil do you come? We 
have not seen a sign of you at the club for more than this 
fortnight past.’’ 

‘‘ Whither have I come?’’ repeated Monsieur de Trailles. 
‘‘T will tell you. But first let me congratulate you.”’ 

‘*Yes,’’ said the colonel airily, ‘‘they took it into their 
heads to elect me. On my word, I am very innocent of it 
all; if no one had worked any harder for it than I . 

‘¢ My dear fellow, you are a man of gold for any district, 
and if only the voters I have had to deal with had been equally 
intelligent 2 

‘* What, have you been standing for a place? But from the 
state—the somewhat entangled state—of your finances I did 
not think you were in a position ‘me 

‘No; and I was not working on my own account. Ras- 
tignac was worried about the voting in Arcis-sur-Aube, and 
asked me to spend a few days there.’’ 

‘* Arcis-sur-Aube! But, my dear fellow, if I remember 
rightly some article I was reading this morning in one of those 
rags, they are making a shocking bad choice—some plaster- 
cast maker, an image-cutter, whom they propose to send up 
to us?’”’ 

*¢ Just so, and it is about that rascally business that I came 
to consult you. I have not been two hours in Paris, and I 
shall see Rastignac only as I leave this.’’ 

‘* He is getting on famously, that little minister! ’’ said the 
colonel, interrupting the skillful modulation through which 
Maxime by every word had quietly tended to the object of 











THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 263 


his visit. ‘‘ He is very much liked at the Chd/eau. Do you 
know that little Nucingen girl he married? ’”’ 

‘* Yes, I often see Rastignac; he is a very old friend of 
mine.’”’ 

‘« She is a pretty little thing,’’ the colonel went on. ‘‘ Very 
pretty; and when the first year of matrimony is dead and 
buried, I fancy that a mild charge in that quarter might be 
ventured on with some hope of success.’’ 

“‘Come, come!’’ said Maxime, ‘‘a man of position like 
you, a legislator! Why, after merely stirring the electoral 
pot for somebody else, I have come back quite a settled and 
reformed character.’’ 

‘‘ Then you went to Arcis-sur-Aube to hinder the election 
of this hewer of stone?”’ 

“‘Not at all; I went there to scotch the wheels of a Left 
Centre candidate.”’ 

‘Pooh! Iam not sure that it is not as bad as the Left 
out and out. But take a cigar ; I have some good ones there 
—the same as the princes smoke.’’ 

Maxime would have gained nothing by refusing, for the 
colonel had already risen to ring for his valet, to whom he 
merely said: ‘* Lights.’’ 

‘At first everything was going splendidly. To oust the 
candidate who had scared the ministry—a lawyer, the very 
worst kind of vermin—TI disinterred a retired hosier, the 
mayor of the town, idiot enough for anything, whom I per- 
suaded to come forward. This worthy was convinced that 
he, like his opponent, belonged to the Opposition. That is 
the prevalent opinion in the whole district at the present 
time, so that the election, by my judicious manceuvring, was 
as good as won. And our man once safe in Paris, the great 
wizard at the Tuileries would have spoken three words to 
him, and this rabid antagonist, turned inside out like a stock- 
ing of his own making, would have been anything we 
wished.”’ 


264 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* Well played,”’ said the colonel; ‘I see the hand of my 
Maxime in it all.”’ 

‘You will see it yet plainer when he tells you that in this 
little arrangement, without taking toll from his employers, he 
expected to turn an honest penny. To engraft on that dull 
stock some sort of parliamentary ambition, I had to begin by 
making myself agreeable to his wife, a not unpalatable country 
matron, though a little past the prime——’”’ 

“‘Yes, yes; very good ’? said Franchessini. ‘‘ The 
husband a deputy—satisfied ——? ’’ 

‘* You are not near it, my dear fellow. There is a daughter 
in the house, an only child, very much spoilt, nineteen, nice- 
looking, and with something like a million francs of her 
own.”’ 

‘But, my dear Maxime, I passed by your tailor’s yesterday 
and your coachmaker’s, and I saw no illuminations.’’ 

‘¢They would, I am sorry to say, have been premature. 
But so matters stood: the two ladies crazy to make a move to 
Paris ; full of overflowing gratitude to the man who could 
get them there through the door of the Palais Bourbon ; the 
girl possessed with the idea of being a countess; the mother 
transported at the notion of holding a political drawing-room 
—you see all the obvious openings that the situation afforded, 
and you know me well enough to believe that I was not 
behindhand to avail myself of such possibilities when once I 
had discerned them.”’ 

“‘T am quite easy on that score,’’ said the colonel, as he 
opened a window to let out some of the cigar smoke that by 
this time was filling the room. 

“So I was fully prepared,’’ Maxime went on, ‘‘ to swallow 
the damsel and the fortune as soon as I had made up my mind 
to leap plump into this mésaliance; when, falling from the 
clouds, or to be accurate, shot up from underground, the gen- 
tlemen with two names, of whom you read in the ‘ National’ 
this morning, suddenly came on the scene.”’ 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 265 


‘* By the way,’’ said the colonel, ‘‘ what may this act of 
recognition be which enables a man to take a name he had 
never heard of only a day since? ”’ 

‘The recognition of a natural son in the presence of a 
notary. It is perfectly legal.’’ 

‘*Then our gentleman is of the interesting tribe of the 
nameless? Yes, yes, those rascals often have great luck. I 
am not at all surprised that this one should have cut the 
ground from under your feet.’’ 

‘* Tf we were living in the Middle Ages,’’ said Maxime, ‘‘I 
should account for the unhorsing of my man and the success 
of this fellow by magic and witchcraft ; for he will, I fear, be 
your colleague. How can you account for the fact that an 
old ¢icoteuse, formerly a friend of Danton’s, and now the 
mother superior of an Ursuline convent, with the help of a 
nephew, an obscure Paris organist whom she brought out as 
the masculine figurehead of her scheme, should have hood- 
winked a whole constituency to such a point that this stranger 
actually polled an imposing majority ?’’ 

‘¢ Well, but some one knew him, I suppose ?’’ 

‘*Not a soul, unless it were this old hypocrite. Till the 
moment of his arrival he had no fortune, no connections—not 
even a father! While he was taking his boots off he was 
made—heaven knows how—the proprietor of a fine estate. 
Then, in quite the same vein, a gentleman supposed to be a 
native of the place, from which he had absented himself for 
many years, presented himself with this ingenious schemer in 
a notary’s office, acknowledged him post-haste as his son, and 
vanished again in the course of the night, no one knowing by 
which road he went. This trick having come off all right, 
the Ursuline and her ally launched their nominee; republi- 
cans, legitimists, and conservatives, the clergy, the nobility, 
the middle-classes—one and all, as if bound by a spell cast 
over the whole land, came round to this favorite of the old 
nun-witch; and, but for the sacred battalion of officials who, 


266 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


under my eye, put a bold face on the matter, and did not 
break up, there was nothing to hinder his being returned 
unanimously, as you were.’’ 

«¢And so, my poor friend, farewell to the fortune ?’”’ 

‘*Well, not so bad as that. But everything is put off. 
The father complains that the blissful peace of his existence 
is broken, that he has been made quite ridiculous—when the 
poor man is so utterly ridiculous to begin with. The daughter 
would still like to be a countess, but the mother cannot make 
up her mind to see her political drawing-room carried down 
stream ; God knows to what lengths I may have to go in con- 
solation! Then I myself am worried by the need for coming 
to an early solution of the problem. There I was—there was 
the girl—I should have gotten married; I should have taken 
a year to settle my affairs, and then by next session I should 
have made my respectable father-in-law resign, and have 
stepped into his seat inthe Chamber. You see what a horizon 
lay before me.”’ 

‘*But, my dear fellow, apart from the political horizon, 
that million must not be allowed to slip.’’ 

‘¢Oh, well, so far as that goes, I am easy; it is only post- 
poned. My good people are coming to Paris. After the re- 
pulse they have sustained, Arcis is no longer a possible home 
for them. Beauvisage particularly—I apologize for the name, 
but it is that of my fair one’s family—Beauvisage, like Corio- 
lanus, is ready to put the ungrateful province to fire and sword. 
And indeed the hapless exiles will have a place here to lay 
their heads, for they are the owners, if you please, of the 
Hétel Beauséant.’’ 

‘*Owners of the Hétel Beauséant!’’ cried the colonel in 
amazement.”’ 

“Yes, indeed ; and, after all—Beauséant—Beauvisage ; only 
the end of the name needs a change. My dear fellow, you 
have no idea of what these country fortunes mount up to, 
accumulated sou by sou, especially when the omnipotence of 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 267 


thrift is supported by the incessant suction of the leech we call 
trade! We must make the best of it; the middle-classes are 
rising steadily like a tide, and it is really very kind of them 
to buy our houses and lands instead of cutting off our heads, 
as they did in ’93 to get them for nothing.”’ 

‘But you, my dear Maxime, have reduced your houses and 
lands to the simplest expression.’’ 

‘* No—since, as you perceive, I am thinking of reinstating 
myself.’’ 

‘‘The Hétel Beauséant! I remember it well; it was quite a 
royal residence,’’ said the colonel. 

‘‘ Happily, everything has been completely spoilt. It was 
let for years to some English people, and now extensive 
repairs are needed. This isa capital bond between me and 
my country friends, for without me they have no idea how to 
set to work. It is understood that I am to be director-general 
of the works; but I have promised my future mother-in-law 
another thing, and I need your assistance, my dear fellow, to 
enable me to perform it.’’ 

**You do not want a license for her to sell tobacco and 
stamps ?’’ 

‘*No, nothing so difficult as that. These confounded 
women, when they are possessed by a spirit of hatred or 
revenge, have really wonderful instinct; and Madame Beau- 
visage, who roars like a lioness at the mere name of Dor- 
lange, has taken it into her head that there must be some 
dirty intrigue wriggling at the bottom of his incomprehensible 
success. It is quite certain that the apparition and disappear- 
ance of this ‘American’ father give grounds for very odd 
surmises ; and it is quite possible that if we pressed the button, 
the organist, who is said to have taken entire charge of this 
interesting bastard’s education, and to know the secret of his 
parentage, might afford the most unexpected revelations. 

‘¢ And thinking of this, I remembered a man over whom you 
have, I fancy, considerable influence, and who in this ‘ Dor- 


268 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


lange hunt’ may be of great use to us. You recollect the 
robbery of Jenny Cadine’s jewels, which she lamented so 
bitterly one evening when supping with you at Véry’s?”’ 

*Yes,’’ said the colonel, ‘‘I remember very well. My 
audacity was lucky. But I may tell you frankly, that with 
more time for thought, I should not have dealt so cavalierly 
with Monsieur de Saint-Estéve. He is a man to be ap- 
proached with respect.’”’ 

‘‘Bless me! Why, is not he a retired criminal who has 
served his time on the hulks, and whose release you helped to 
obtain—who must have for you some such veneration as 
Fieschi showed to one of his protectors? ’”’ 

‘‘Very true. Monsieur de Saint-Estéve, like his prede- 
cessor Bibi-Lupin, has had his troubles. But he is now at the 
head of the criminal police, with very important functions 
that he fulfills with remarkable address. If this were a matter 
strictly within his department, J should not hesitate to give 
you an introduction; but the affair of which you speak is a 
delicate business, and first and foremost I must feel my way 
to ascertain whether he will even discuss it with you.”’ 

‘*Oh, I fancied he was entirely at your commands. Say 
no more about it if there is any difficulty.’’ 

‘« The chief difficulty is that I never see him. I cannot, of 
course, write him about such a thing ; I lack opportunity—— 
the chance of a meeting. But why not apply to Rastignac, 
who would simply order him to take steps ?”’ 

‘*Rastignac, as you may understand, will not give me a 
very good reception. I had promised to succeed, and I have 
come back a failure; he will regard this side-issue as one of 
those empty dreams a man clutches at to conceal a defeat.’’ 

“TI will do my best for you, only it will take time,’’ said 
the colonel, rising. 

Maxime had paid a long visit, and took the hint to cut it 
short ; he took leave with a shade of coolness, which did not 
particularly disturb the colonel. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 269 


As soon as Monsieur de Trailles was gone, Franchessini 
took the knave of spades out of a pack of cards, and cut the 
figure out from the background. Placed between two thick 
folds of letter-paper, he tucked it into an envelope, which he 
addressed in a feigned hand to Monsieur de Saint-Estéve, 
Petite Rue Sainte-Anne, Prés du Quai des Orfévres. 

This done, he rang, countermanded his carriage, which he 
had ordered before Maxime’s visit, and, setting out on foot, 
mailed the securely sealed strange missive with his own hand 
in the first letter-box he came to. 


At the close of the elections, which were now over, the 
Government, against all expectations, still had a majority in 
the Chamber, but a problematical and provisional majority, 
promising but a struggling and sickly existence to the Ministry 
in power. Still, it had won the numerical success which is 
held to be satisfactory by men who wish to remain in office 
at any price. Every voice in the Ministerial camp was raised 
in a Ze Deum, which as often serves to celebrate a doubtful 
defeat as an undoubted victory. 

Madame de 1’Estorade, who was too much taken up by her 
children to be very punctual in her social duties, had long 
owed Madame de Rastignac a visit in return for that paid by 
the minister’s wife on the evening when the sculptor, now 
promoted to be deputy, had dined there after the famous oc- 
casion of the statuette, as related by her to Madame Octave 
de Camps. Monsieur de ]’Estorade, a zealous Conservative, 
as we know, had insisted that, on a day when politics and 
politeness were both on the same side, his wife should dis- 
charge this debt already of long standing. Madame de 1’Es- 
torade had gone early to have done with the task as soon as 
possible, and so found herself at the upper end of the group 
of seated ladies; while the men stood about, talking. Her 
chair was next to Madame de Rastignac, who sat nearest to 
the fire. At official receptions this is usual, a sort of guide to 


270 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


the new-comers who know where to go at once to make their 
bow to the lady of the house. 

But Madame de 1’Estorade’s hopes of curtailing her visit 
had not taken due account of the fascinations of conversation 
in which, on such an occasion, her husband wes certain to be 
involved. 

Monsieur de 1’Estorade, though no great orator, was influ- 
ential in the Upper Chamber, and regarded as a man of great 
foresight and accurate judgment ; and at every step he took 
as he moved round the rooms, he was stopped either by some 
political bigwig or by some magnate of finance, of diplomacy, 
or merely of the business world, and eagerly invited to give 
his opinion on the prospects of the opening session. 

Monsieur de 1’Estorade talked so long and so well that at 
last the drawing-room was almost empty, and only a small 
circle was left of intimate friends, gathered round his wife 
and Madame de Rastignac. The minister himself, as he re- 
turned from seeing off the last of his guests to whose impor- 
tance such an attention was due, rescued Monsieur de 1’Estor- 
ade from the clutches—as he thought somewhat perilous—of a 
Wurtemberg baron, the mysterious agent of some Northern 
Power, who, helped by his orders and his gibberish, had the 
knack of acquiring rather more information about any given 
matter than his interlocutor intended to give him. 

Hooking his arm confidentially through that of the guileless 
Monsieur de |’Estorade, who was lending a gullible ear to the 
trans-Rhenish rhodomontade in which the wily Teuton care- 
fully wrapped up the curiosity he dared not frankly avow— 

‘That man, you know, is a mere nobody,”’ said Rastignac, 
as the foreigner made him a humbly obsequious bow. 

‘* He does not talk badly,’’ replied Monsieur de 1’ Estorade. 
‘Tf it were not for his villainous accent——”’ 

‘‘ That, on the contrary, is his strong point, as it is Nucin- 
gen’s, my father-in-law. With their way of mutilating the 
French language, and always seeming to be in the clouds, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 271 


these Germans have the cleverest way of worming out a 
Le) 





secret 

As they joined the group about Madame de Rastignac— 

‘¢Madame,”’ said the minister to the countess, ‘‘I have 
brought you back your husband, having caught him red- 
handed in ‘criminal conversation’ with a man from the 
Zollverein, who would probably not have released him this 
night.”’ 

‘‘T was about to ask Madame de Rastignac if she could 
give me a bed, to set her free at any rate, for Monsieur de 
l’Estorade’s interminable conversations have hindered me 
from leaving her at liberty.’’ 

‘Oh, my dear!’’ cried Rastignac. ‘The session will 
open immediately ; pray give yourself no scornful airs to the 
elect representatives of the nation! Beside, you will get into 
Madame de 1’Estorade’s black books. One of our newly 
made sovereigns is, I am told, high in her good graces.”’ 

‘‘In mine ?’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade with a look of 
surprise, and she colored a little. 

‘*To be sure! quite true,’’ said Madame de Rastignac. 
*‘T had quite forgotten that artist who, on the last occasion 
of my seeing you at your own house, was cutting out such 
charming silhouettes for your children, in a corner. I must 
own that I was then far from supposing that he would become 
one of our masters.”’ 

‘‘But even then he was talked of as a candidate,’’ replied 
Madame de 1’Estorade; ‘‘ though, to be sure, it was not taken 
very seriously,’’ 

*‘Quite seriously by me,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, 
eager to add a stripe to his reputation as a prophet. ‘ From 
the very first talk on political matters that I had with our 
candidate, I expressed my astonishment at his breadth of 
view—Monsieur de Ronqueroiles is my witness.’’ 

‘*Certainly,’’ said this gentleman, ‘‘he is no ordinary 
youth ; still, I do not build much on his future career. He 


272 DEE DIP TY, FOR ARCs 


is a man of impulse, and, as Monsieur de Talleyrand well ob- 
served, the first impulse is always the best.”’ 

‘* Well, then, monsieur!’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade in- 
nocently. 

‘‘ Well, madame,’’ replied Monsieur de Ronquerolles, who 
piqued himself on skepticism, ‘‘ heroism is out of date; it is 
a desperately heavy and clumsy outfit, and sinks the wearer 
on every road.’’ 

‘‘And yet I should have supposed that great qualities of 
heart and mind had something to do with the composition of 
a man of mark.’’ 

‘¢ Qualities of mind, yes—you are right there; but even so, 
on condition of their tendency in a certain direction. But 
qualities of heart—of what use, I ask you, can they be ina 
political career? To hoist you on to stilts on which you walk 
far less firmly than on your feet, off which you tumble at the 
first push and break your neck.”’ 

‘‘ Whence we must conclude,’’ said Madame de Rastignac, 
laughing, while her friend preserved a disdainful silence, 
‘‘that the political world is peopled with good-for-noth- 
ings.’’ 

‘‘ That is very near the truth, madame; ask ‘ Lazarille!’”’ 
And with this allusion to a pleasantry that is still famous on 
the stage, Monsieur de Ronquerolles laid his hand familiarly 
on the minister’s shoulder. 

‘‘In my opinion, my dear fellow, your generalizations are 
rather too particular,’’ said Rastignac. 

‘* Nay,’’ said Monsieur de Ronquerolles, ‘‘ come now; let 
us be serious. To my knowledge, this Monsieur de Sallenauve 
—the name he has assumed, I believe, instead of Dorlange, 
which he himself said frankly enough was a name for the 
stage—has committed two very handsome deeds within a 
short time. In my presence, aiding and abetting, he was 
within an ace of being killed by the Duc de Rhétoré for a 
few unpleasant remarks made on one of his friends,”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 78 


Before the other ‘* handsome deed’”’ could be brought into 
the discussion, at the risk of seeming rude by interrupting the 
course of the argument, Madame de |’Estorade rose and gave 
her husband an imperceptible nod to signify that she wished 
to leave. 

Monsieur de 1’Estorade took advantage of the slightness 
of the signal to ignore it, and remained immovable. Mon- 
sieur de Ronquerolles went on— 

‘¢ His other achievement was to fling himself under the feet 
of some runaway horses and snatch Madame de 1’Estorade’s 
little daughter from certain death.’’ 

Everybody looked at Madame de 1’Estorade, who this time 
blushed crimson; but at the same instant she found words, 
feeling that she must by some means keep her countenance, 
and she said with some spirit— 

*‘Tt would seem, monsieur, that you wish to convey that 
Monsieur de Sallenauve was a great fool for his pains, since 
he risked his life, and would thus have cut short all his 
chances in the future. I may tell you, however, that there is 
one woman whom you would hardly persuade to share that 
opinion—and that is my child’s mother.’’ 

As she spoke, Madame de 1’Estorade was almost in tears. 
She warmly shook hands with Madame de Rastignac, and so 
emphatically made a move, that this time she got her fixture 
of a husband under way. 

Madame de Rastignac, as she went with her friend to the 
drawing-room door, spoke in an undertone— 

‘‘T really thank you,”’ said she, ‘‘ for having boldly held 
your own against that cynic. Monsieur de Rastignac has 
some unpleasant allies left from his bachelor days.’’ 

As she returned to her seat, Monsieur de Ronquerolles was 
speaking — 

“« Aha,”’ said he, ‘‘these life-preservers! Poor 1’Estorade 
is, in fact, as yellow as a lemon! ”’ 

‘Indeed, monsieur, you are atrocious! ’’ said Madame de 

18 


274 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Rastignac indignantly. ‘A woman whom calumny has 
never dared to blight, who lives solely for her husband and 
children, and who has tears in her eyes at the mere remote 
recollection of the danger that threatened one of them! ”’ 

‘¢ Bless me, madame,’’ said Monsieur de Ronquerolles, 
heedless of this little lecture, ‘‘ I can only tell you that your 
Newfoundland dog is a dangerous and unwholesome breed. 
After all, if Madame de 1’Estorade should think herself too 
seriously compromised, she has always this to fall back on— 
she can get him to marry the girl he saved.”’ 

Monsieur de Ronquerolles had no sooner spoken than he 
was conscious of the hideous blunder he had made by uttering 
such a speech in Augusta de Nucingen’s drawing-room. It 
was his turn to redden—though he had lost the habit of it, 
and deep silence, which seemed to enfold him, put the crown- 
ing touch to his embarrassment. 

‘¢ That clock is surely slow,’’ said Rastignac, to make some 
sound of whatever words, and also to put an end to a sitting 
at which speech was so luckless. 

‘*It is indeed,’’ said Monsieur de Ronquerolles, after look- 
ing at his watch. ‘‘ Just on a quarter-past twelve ’’—the hour 
was half-past eleven. 

He bowed formally to the mistress of the house, and went, 
as did the rest of the company. 

‘‘You saw how distressed he was,’’ said Rastignac to his 
wife, as soon as they were alone. ‘‘ He was a thousand miles 
away from any malicious intent.’’ 

‘‘No matter ; as I was saying just now to Madame de I’Es- 
torade, your bachelor life has left you heir to some odious 
acquaintances.”’ 

‘But, my dear child, the King is civil every day to people 
he would be only too glad to lock up in the bastille, if there 
still were a bastille, and the Charter would allow it.’’ 

Madame de Rastignac made no reply; she went up to her 
room without saying good-night. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 275 


Not long after, the minister tapped at a side-door of the 
room, and finding it locked— 

“«¢ Augusta,’’ said he, in the voice which the most ordinary 
bourgeois of the Rue Saint-Denis would have adopted under 
similar circumstances. 

The only answer he heard was a bolt shot inside. 

‘There are some things in the past,’’ said he to himself, 
with much annoyance, ‘‘that are quite unlike that door— 
they always stand wide open on the present. 

‘¢ Augusta,’’ he began again, ‘‘ I wanted to ask you at what 
hour I might find Madame de l’Estorade at home. I mean 
to call on her to-morrow after what has happened vs 

“¢ At four o’clock,’’ the lady called back, ‘‘ when she comes 
in from the Tuileries, where she always walks with the chil- 
dren.”’ 

One of the questions which had been most frequently mooted 
in the world of fashion since Madame de Rastignac’s marriage 
was this: ** Does Augusta love her husband ?”’ 

Doubt was allowable; Mademoiselle de Nucingen’s mar- 
riage had been the ill-favored and not very moral result of an 
intimacy such as is apt to react on the daughter’s life when it 
has lasted in the mother’s till the course of years and long 
staleness have brought it to a state of atrophy and paralysis. 
Jn such unions, where love is to be transferred to the next 
generation, the husband is usually more than willing, for he 
is released from joys that have turned rancid, and avails him- 
self of a bargain like that offered by the magician in the 
‘¢ Arabian Nights’’ to exchange old lamps for new. But the 
wife is in the precisely opposite predicament ; between her 
and her husband there stands an ever-present memory—which 
may come to life again. Even apart from the dominion of 
the senses, she must be conscious of an older power antagonistic 
to her newer influence ; must she not almost always be a vic- 
tim, and can she be supposed to feel impassioned devotion to 
the maternal leavings? Rastignac had stood waiting outside 





276 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


the door for about as long as it has taken to give this brief 
analysis of a not uncommon conjugal situation. 

‘‘Well, good-night, Augusta,’’ said he, preparing to depart. 

As he piteously took his leave, the door was suddenly opened, 
and his wife, throwing herself into his arms, laid her head on 
his shoulder, sobbing. 

The question was answered: Madame de Rastignac loved 
her husband. And yet the distant murmuring of a nice little 
hell might be heard under the flowers of this paradise. 


Rastignac was less punctual than usual next morning; and 
by the time he went into his private office, the anteroom be- 
yond was already occupied by seven applicants armed with 
letters of introduction, beside two peers and seven members 
of the Lower Chamber. 

A bell rang sharply, and the usher, with such agitation as 
proved contagious among the visitors, hurried into the min- 
ister’s room. A moment later he reappeared with the stereo- 
typed apology— 

‘<The minister is called to attend a Council. He will, 
however, have the honor of receiving the deputies of the 
Upper and Lower Chambers. The rest of the gentlemen are 
requested to call again.’’ 

“¢But when—again ?”’ asked one of the postponed victims. 
‘‘This is the third time I have called within three days, and 
all for nothing.” 

The usher shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, 
‘¢That is no fault of mine; I only obey orders.’? However, 
hearing some murmurs as to the privilege accorded to the 
honorable deputies— 

‘‘Those gentlemen,”’ said he, with some pomposity, ‘‘ come 
to discuss matters of public interests.’’ 

The visitors having been paid in this false coin, the bell 
rang again, and the usher put on his most affable smile. 

‘*Whom shall I have the honor of announcing first ?”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 277 


‘“*Gentlemen,’’ said Colonel Franchessini, ‘‘I believe I 
have seen you all come in?”’ 

And he went toward the door which the usher threw open, 
announcing in a loud, distinct voice— 

‘¢ Monsieur le Colonel Franchessini.’’ 

‘¢ Ah, a good beginning this morning!’’ said the minister, 
going forward a few steps and holding out his hand. ‘‘ What 
do you want of me, my dear fellow? A railway, a canal, a 
suspension bridge oo 

‘*T have come, my dear friend, to trouble you about a little 
private affair—a matter that concerns both you and me ?”’ 

‘* That is not the happiest way of urging the question, for 
I must tell you plainly I hold no good recommendation to 
myself,”’ 

‘You have had a visitor lately?’’ said the colonel, pro- 
ceeding to the point. 

**A visitor? Dozens. I always have.’’ 

‘‘Yes. But on the evening of Sunday the 12th—the day 
of the:riot ?”’ 

‘¢Ah! now I know what you mean. But the man is going 
mad.”’ 

*‘Do you think so ?’’ said the colonel dubiously. 

‘*Well, what am I to think of a sort of visionary who 
makes his way in here under favor of the relaxed vigilance 
which in a Ministerial residence always follows on musket- 
firing in the streets; who proceeds to tell me that the Govern- 
ment is undermined by the Republican party, at the very 
moment when the staff-officers of the National Guard assure 
me that we have not had even a skirmish; and who finally 
suggests that he is himself the only man who can insure the 
future safety of the dynasty ?”’ 

‘* So that you did not welcome him very cordially ?’’ 

‘“So that I soon showed him out, and rather peremptorily, 
in spite of his persistency. At any time, and under any cir- 
cumstances, he is a visitor I could never find agreeable; but 





278 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCUS. 


when, on my pointing out to him that he holds a post for 
which he is admirably fitted, and which he fills with the greatest 
skill, so that it must be the utmost limit of his ambition, the 
maniac replies that unless his services are accepted France is 
on the brink of a precipice, you may suppose I had but one 
thing to say—namely, that we hope to save it without his 
help.”’ 

‘Well, it is done!’’ said the colonel, ‘‘ But now, if you 
will allow me to explain matters oS 

The minister, sitting at his table with his back to the fire, 
leaned round to look at the clock. 

‘‘Look here, my dear fellow,’’ said he, after seeing what 
the time was, ‘‘I have a suspicion that you will not be brief, 
and there is a hungry pack waiting outside that door; even if 
I could give you time, I could not listen properly. Be so 
kind as to go for an airing till noon, and come back to break- 
fast.”’ 

‘¢That will suit me perfectly,’’ said the colonel, leaving. 
As he crossed the waiting-room— 

‘* Well, gentlemen,’’ said he, ‘‘I have not kept you long, 
have I?’’ 

He shook hands with one and another, and went away. 

Three hours later, when the colonel appeared in Madame 
de Rastignac’s drawing-room—where he was introduced to 
her—he found there Nucingen, the minister’s father-in-law, 
who came almost every day to breakfast there on his way to 
the Bourse; Emile Blondet, of the ‘‘Débats;’’ Messrs. 
Moreau (de 1’Oise), Dionis, and Camusot, three fierce Con- 
servative members; and two of the newly elect, whose names 
it is not certain that Rastignac himself knew. Franchessini 
also recognized Martial de la Roche-Hugon, the minister’s 
brother-in-law ; the inevitable des Lupeaulx, a peer of France ; 
and a third figure, who talked for a long time with Rastignac 
in a window recess. He, Emile Blondet explained in reply 
to the colonel’s inquiries, was a former functionary of the 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 279 


secret police, who still carried on his profession as an amateur, 
making the round of all the Government offices every morn- 
ing, under every ministry, with as much zeal and punctuality 
as if it still were his duty. 

Madame de Rastignac, seen close, was fair but not lym- 
phatic. She was strikingly like her mother, but with the 
shade of greater elegance, which in parvenu families grows 
from generation to generation as they get farther from the 
source. The last drop of the original Goriot seemed to have 
evaporated in this lovely young woman, who was especially 
distinguished by the fine hands and feet, which show breed- 
ing, and of which the absence in Madame de Nucingen, in 
spite of her beauty, had always stamped her so distressingly 
as the vermicelli-maker’s daughter. 

The colonel, as a man who might subsequently have ideas 
of his own, showed repressed eagerness in his attentions to 
Madame de Rastignac, with the gallantry, now rather out of 
date, which seems addressed to Woman rather than to the in- 
dividual woman ; idle men alone, especially if they have been 
soldiers, seem to preserve a reflection of this condition. The 
colonel, whose successes in the boudoir had been many, knew 
that this distant method of preparing the approaches is a very 
effective strategy in besieging a place. 

The colonel, as he meant to be asked to the house again, 
took care to speak of his wife. ‘‘ She lived,’’ he said, ‘‘ very 

‘much in the old English way, in her old home; but he would 
be happy to drag her out of her habitual retirement to intro- 
duce her to a lady of such distinguished merit as Madame de 
Rastignac, if indeed she would allow him to bring her. In 
spite of a wide difference in age between his wife and his 
friend the minister’s, they would find, he thought, one happy 
point of contact in a similar zeal for good works.”’ 

In fact, Franchessini had hardly entered the room when he 
found himself obliged to take from Madame de Rastignac a 
ticket for a ball of which she was a lady patroness, to be got 


280 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


up for the benefit of the victims of the recent earthquake in 
Martinique. 

It was the fashion then among women to display in such 
acts of charity an audacity beyond all bounds; now, as it 
happened, Madame Franchessini was an Irishwoman of great 
piety, who spent in good works most of her spare time after 
superintending the management of her house, and a large 
part of the sums she reserved for her own use apart from her 
husband’s. So the offer of an intimacy with a woman who 
would be so ready to give her money and her exertions when 
needed for a créche, or infant schools, or children orphaned 
by the cholera, was a really skillful stroke of diplomacy ; and 
it shows that the sportsman in the colonel had not altogether 
killed the faculty of foresight. 

Breakfast over, the guests left or withdrew to the drawing- 
room; and Franchessini, who had sat at Madame de Rastig- 
nac’s right hand, continued his conversation with her. 

‘Now for you and me, my friend!’’ said Rastignac to the 
colonel, and they went into the garden. 

‘¢T, less fortunate than you,’’ said Franchessini, taking up 
his story at the point where it had been interrupted a few 
hours previously, ‘have kept up communications with the 
man we spoke of—not constant, indeed; but a sort of evil 
concatenation of contact. To avoid ever having him in my 
house, we agreed that whenever he wanted to speak to me he 
should write to me without any signature and tell me where 
to meet him. In the almost impossible event of my wishing 
to see him, I was to send a playing-card figure cut out to his 
den in the Rue Sainte-Anne, and he would notify the spot 
where we might meet undisturbed. He may be trusted for a 
clever choice of a suitable place; no man knows his Paris 
better, or the ways of moving about underground.”’ 

‘‘High political qualifications !’’ said Rastignac sarcasti- 
cally. 

**T tell you the whole truth, you see,’’ replied the colonel, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 281 


‘to prove to you that, in my opinion, this is a man to be 
treated with respect; and, at the same time, that you may not 
suppose that I am showing you a mere phantasmagoria with a 
view to persuading you into doing a thing quite contrary to 
your first intentions.”’ 

‘‘Pray go on,’’ said Rastignac, pausing to gather a full- 
blown China rose—by way, perhaps, of showing his perfect 
openness 0: mind. 

**Qn the evening of the very day when you had given him 
so rough a reception, and my election was already known by 
telegraph and announced in an evening paper, I received a 
note from him, a thing that had not happened for the last 
eighteen months—very short and concise: ‘To-morrow 
morning, six o’clock—Redoute de Clignancourt.’ ”’ 

‘‘ Like a challenge,’’ observed Rastignac. 

‘¢The man whom you call a visionary,’’ Franchessini went 
on, ‘‘was, when I joined him, sitting on a knoll, his head 
between his hands. When he heard me, and as I went close 
to him, he rose in a state of high excitement, took me by the 
hand, led me to the spot—very little altered—where the duel 
took place, and in the strident voice you know so well: 
‘What did you do here, nearly five-and-twenty years ago?’ 
said he. ‘A thing,’ said I, ‘of which, ’pon my honor, I 
repent. ‘And I too. And for whom?’ As I made no 
reply, he went on—‘ For a man whose fortune I wanted to 
make. You killed the brother to please me, that the sister 
might be a rich heiress for him to marry as 

‘* But it was all done without my knowledge,”’ Rastignac 
hastily put in; ‘‘and I did everything in my power to prevent 
its*, 

“‘So I told him,”’ said the colonel, ‘‘and he paid no heed 
to the remark, but only grew more frantic, exclaiming: ‘ Well, 
and when I go to that man’s house, not to ask him a favor, 
but to offer him my services, he shows me the door! And 
does he think I am going to crstlock LY ee 





282 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢He is remarkably touchy,’’ said Rastignac quietly. ‘I 
did not show him the door. I only rather roughly cut short 
his boasting and exaggeration.” 

‘¢He then went on,’’ said the colonel, ‘‘to relate his in- 
terview with you the previous evening; the proposal he had 
made to give up his place in the criminal police in favor of a 
post as superintendent—far more needed, in his opinion—of 
political malefactors. ‘I am sick,’ said he, ‘of liming twigs 
to catch thieves, such an idiotic kind of game-bird that all 
their tricks are stale to me. And, then, what interest can I 
find in nabbing men who would steal a silver mug or a few 
bank-notes, when there are others only waiting for a chance 
to grab at the crown ?’’”’ 

“‘ Very true,’’ said Rastignac, with a smile, ‘if it were not 
for the National Guard, and the army, and the two Chambers, 
and the King who can ride.’’ 

‘‘He added,”’ said Franchessini, ‘‘ that he was not appre- 
ciated, and, with a reminiscence of the lingo of the past, that 
he was fagged out over mere child’s play; that he had in him 
very powerful qualities adapted to shine in a higher sphere; 
that he had trained a man to take his place; that I must 
positively see and talk to you; and that now I was a member, 
I had a right to speak and impress on you the possible results 
of a refusal.’ 

‘* My dear fellow,’’ said Rastignac decisively, ‘‘I can but 
say, as I did at the beginning of our conversation, the man is 
a lunatic, and I have never been afraid of a madman, whether 
a cheerful or a furious one.”’ 

‘‘T do not deny that I myself saw great difficulties in the 
way of satisfying his demand. However, I tried to soothe 
him by promising to see you, pointing out to him that noth- 
ing could be done in a hurry ; and in point of fact, but for an 
accessory circumstance, I should probably not have mentioned 
the matter for some long time to come.”’ 

‘¢ And that circumstance——?’’ asked the minister. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 283 


’ replied the colonel, ‘‘I had a visit 


? 


‘* Yesterday morning,’ 
from Maxime, who had just returned from Arcis-sur-Aube 

‘‘T know,’’ said Rastignac. ‘*‘ He mentioned the matter to 
me—an idea devoid of commonsense. Either the man on 
whom he wants to set your bloodhound is good for something 
—or he is not. If he is not, it is perfectly useless to employ 
a dangerous and suspectéd instrument to destroy the thing 
that does not exist. If, on the other hand, we have to do 
with a good man in the right place, he has, on the platform 
of the Chamber, and in the newspapers, every means, not 
only of parrying such blows as we may be able to strike with 
muffled swords, but of turning them against ourselves. Take 
it as a general rule, in a country like ours, crazy for publicity, 
wherever the hand of the police is seen, even if it were to 
unveil the basest turpitude, you may be sure that there will be 
an outcry against the Government. Opinion in such a case 
behaves like the man to whom some one sang an air by Mozart 
to prove how great a composer he was. The hearer, conquered 
by the evidence, said at last to the singer: ‘Well, Mozart 
may be a great musician, but you, my good friend, may con- 
gratulate yourself on having a great cold!’”’ 

‘‘Indeed, there is much truth in your remark,’’ said Fran- 
chessini. ‘‘ Still, the man Maxime wants to unmask can only 
be of respectable mediocrity ; and without being able to /unge 
with such force as you suppose, he may nevertheless tease you 
a good deal.’’ 

**T expect to ascertain the true worth of your new colleague 
ere long from a quarter where I may count on better informa- 
tion than Monsieur de Trailles can command. On this occa- 
sion he has let himself in, and is trying to make up for lack 
of skill by vehemence. As to your incubus—whom I should 
not, in any case, employ to carry out Maxime’s dream—as he 
seems not altogether useless, at least from the point of view 
of your connection with him, just to give him an answer I 
should say ie 








284 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢ Well, what ?’’ said Franchessini, with increased attention. 

‘¢T should tell him that, quite apart from his criminal ex- 
perience, which, as soon as he heads the political ranks, might 
expose him to serious outrages that would recoil on us, there 
are in his past life some very ugly records oe 

‘« But records only,’’ replied Franchessini. ‘‘ For you un- 
derstand that when he ventured into your presence it was, so 
to speak, in a new skin.”’ 

‘*T know all,’’ said Rastignac. ‘‘ You do not suppose that 
he is the only police spy in Paris. After his visit I made in- 
quiries, and I heard that since 1830, when he was placed at 
the head of his department, he had lived a middle-class life of 
the strictest respectability ; the only fault I have to find with 
it is that it is too perfect a disguise.’’ 

‘¢ Nevertheless ”’ said the colonel. 

‘He is rich,’’ Rastignac went on; ‘‘his salary is twelve 
thousand francs a year from the Government; with three 
hundred thousand he inherited from Lucien de Rubempré, 
and the profits from a patent-leather factory which he has 
near Gentilly, and which is paying very well. His aunt, 
Jacqueline Collin, who keeps house with him, still dabbles in 
certain dirty jobs, from which, of course, she derives large 
profits; and I have strong reason to believe that they have 
both gambled successfully on the Bourse. 

** Now all this, my dear colonel, is too bucolic to lead up 
to the superintendence of the political police. Let him bestir 
himself a little—this old ‘Germeuil’—fling a little money 
about, give some dinners! Why, the executioner could get 
men to dine with him if he wished it.’’ 

“I quite agree with you,’’ said Franchessini. ‘I think 
that he keeps himself too much curled up for fear of attracting 
notice.”’ 

‘Tell him, on the contrary, to uncurl ; and, since he wants 
to have a finger in public business, he should find some credit- 
able opportunity for being talked about. Does he fancy that, 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 285 


hide in what corner he will, the press will not know where to 
find him? Let him do as the niggers do; they do not try to 
wash themselves white, but they have a passion for bright 
colors, and dress in scarlet coats covered with gold braid. I 
know what I should do in his place: to appear thoroughly 
cleaned, I should take up with some actress, some one very 
notorious, conspicuous, before the public. I do not say that 
I would ruin myself, but I would seem to ruin myself for her, 
-with all the airs of one of those frenzied passions for which the 
public is always indulgent, if not sympathetic. I should dis- 
play all my luxury on this idol’s account ; people would come, 
not to my house, but to hers. Then, thanks to my mistress, 
I should be endured at my own table, and by degrees I should 
make a connection. 

‘All this, my dear fellow, will not, of course, make him a 
Saint-Vincent de Paul—though he too had been on the gal- 
leys—but it would get him classed among the third or fourth- 
rate notabilities—a man possible to deal with. The road thus 
laid, Monsieur de Saint-Estéve might prove ‘negotiable; ’ 
and if he then came to me, and I were still in power, I might 
be able to listen to him. 

‘* But at any rate,’’ added Rastignac, going up the steps to 
return to the drawing-room, ‘‘ make him clearly understand 
that he misinterpreted my way of receiving him. That even- 
ing I was naturally absorbed in anxious reflections.’’ 

‘* Be quite easy,’’ said Franchessini, ‘‘ I will talk to him in 
the right way; for, as I must repeat, he is not a man to drive 
to extremities ; there have been incidents in our past which 
cannot be wiped out.”’ 

And as the minister made no reply, it was sufficiently ob- 
vious that he appreciated the observation at its true value. 

** You will be here for the King’s speech, I hope,’’ said 
Rastignac to the colonel ; ‘‘ we want to work up a little en- 
thusiasm.”’ 

Franchessini, before leaving, asked Madame de Rastignac 


286 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


to name a day when he might have the honor of bringing 
his wife to call. 

‘‘Any day,’’ replied Augusta, ‘“‘ but more especially any 
Friday.’’ 


At the hour when Rastignac, by his wife’s instructions, 
thought himself sure to find Madame de 1’Estorade, he did 
not fail to call. Like all who had been present at the little 
scene to which Monsieur de Ronquerolles’ remarks had given 
rise, the minister had been struck by the countess’ agitation ; 
and without concerning himself to gauge the nature or depth 
of her feelings toward the man who had saved her child, he 
was convinced that she was at least greatly interested by him. 

The unexpected feat of winning his election attracted the 
attention of the Government to Sallenauve, all the more be- 
case at first his nomination had hardly been taken seriously. 
Rastignac, while affecting to discard with vehemence the idea 
of an attack from that side, in his own mind did not alto- 
gether renounce the possibility of using means which he fore- 
saw would be difficult to handle ; he would fall back on them 
only if it were obviously necessary. In this state of things 
Madame de 1’Estorade might be useful in two ways: through 
her it seemed easy to arrange an accidental meeting with the 
new deputy, so as to study him at ease and ascertain whether 
there were any single point at which he might prove accessible 
to terms. 

And all this would follow naturally from the step the min- 
ister was now taking. By seeming to call on purpose to 
apologize for Monsieur de Ronquerolles’ mode of speech, he 
would allude in the most natural manner possible to the man 
who had been the occasion and the object of it; and the con- 
versation once started on these lines, he must be clumsy in- 
deed if he could not achieve one or the other, or possibly 
both, of the results he aimed at. 

Monsieur de Rastignac’s plan of action was, however, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 287 


destined to be modified. The servant, who happened to be 
speaking to the gatekeeper, had just informed the visitor that 
Madame de 1’Estorade was not at home, when Monsieur de 
]’Estorade came in on foot, and, seeing the minister’s carriage, 
rushed forward. However well a man may stand with the 
world, it always seems a pity to dismiss a visitor of such im- 
portance; and the accountant-general was not the man to 
resign himself to such a misfortune without a struggle. 

<¢But my wife will soon be in,’’ he insisted as he saw his 
house threatened with the loss of such a piece of good-fortune. 
‘¢She is gone to Ville d’Avray with her daughter and Mon- 
sieur and Madame Octave de Camps. Monsieur Marie- 
Gaston, a great friend of ours—the charming poet, you know, 
who married Louise de Chaulieu—has a house there, where his 
wife died. He has never till now set foot in it since that 
misfortune.’’ 

‘But in that case Madame de 1’Estorade’s visit may last 
till late,’’ said Rastignac. ‘‘F was to her, and not to you, 
my dear count, that I came to offer my apologies for the little 
scene last evening, which seemed to annoy her a good deal. 
Will you kindly express to her from me——”’ 

‘‘T will stake my head on it, my dear sir, that by the time 
you turn the street corner, my wife will be here; she is 
absolutely punctual in everything she does, and to me it is 
simply miraculous that she should be even a few minutes 
late.”’ 

Seeing him so bent on detaining him, Rastignac feared to 
be disobliging, and made up his mind to be dragged out of 
his carriage, and await the countess’ return in her drawing- 
room; for, often enough, for less than this a faithful voter has 
been lost. 

‘So Madame Octave de Camps is in Paris?’’ said he, for 
the sake of saying something. 

“¢ Yes, she made her appearance unexpectedly without letting 
my wife know, though they are in constant correspondence. 


288 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Her husband has, I think, some request to make to you. You 
have not seen him ?”’ 

‘No; but I think I remember seeing his card.”’ 

“‘It is some mining business he is projecting; and as I 
have your ear, allow me to tell you something about it.”’ 

‘‘Excuse my interrupting you,’’ said he, ‘we will return 
to the subject ; but at this moment I am in some uneasiness.”’ 

“¢ How is that?”’ 

‘¢ Your friend Sallenauve’s election has made a devil of a 
rumpus. The King was speaking of him to me this morning, 
and he was not particularly delighted when I communicated 
to him the opinion you expressed only last evening as to our 
new adversary.”’ 

‘‘Bless me! But, as you know, the tribune is a rock on 
which many a ready-made reputation is wrecked. And I am 
sorry too that you should have spoken of Sallenauve to the 
King as a friend of ours. It is not I who direct the elections. 
You should appeal to the minister of the Interior. I can only 
say that I tried fifty ways to hinder the tiresome man from 
standing.’’ 

‘‘But you must see that the King can owe you no grudge 
because you happen to know a candidate so absolutely un- 
dreamed of. a 

‘“No. But last evening in your own drawing-room you 
remarked to my wife that she seemed greatly interested in 
him. I could not contradict before others, because it is 
monstrous to deny knowledge of a man to whom we lie under 
so serious an obligation. But, in fact, my wife especially has 
felt that obligation a burden since the day when he went off to 
stand for election. We have decided to quietly drop him.”’ 

‘‘Not, I hope,’’ interrupted Rastignac, ‘‘ before you have 
done me the service I came to ask.”’ 

‘At your service, my dear minister, whatever it may be.”’ 

‘To plunge in head foremost, then: before seeing this man 
in the Chamber I want to take his measure, and for that pur- 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 289 


pose I want to meet him. To invite him to dine with us 
would be useless; under the eye of his party he would not 
dare to accept, even if he wished. Beside, he would be on 
his guard, and I should not see him as he is. But if we came 
across each other by chance, I should find him, as it were, in 
undress, and could feel my way to discover if he has a weak 
spot.’’ 

“‘If I asked him to meet you at dinner here, there would 
be the same difficulty. Supposing I were to find out some 
evening that he intended to call, and sent you word in the 
course of the day?’”’ 

‘‘We should be too small a party,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘ and 
then a separate conversation between two is hard to manage ; 
the meeting is so intimate that any //e-d-/éfe betrays the 
aggravating circumstance of premeditated arrangement oe 

‘*Stay!’’ cried Monsieur de 1’Estorade, ‘‘I have a bright 
idea “ 

“If the idea is really bright,’ thought the minister, ‘I 
shall have gained by not finding the lady in, for she certainly 
would not have been so particularly anxious to help in carry- 
ing out my wishes.’ 

‘One day soon,’’ l’Estorade went on, ‘‘we are giving a 
little party, a children’s dance. It isa treat my wife, tired 
of refusing, has promised our little girl, in fact, as a festival 
to celebrate our joy at still having her with us. The Pre- 
server, as you perceive, is an integral and indispensable item, 
and I think I may promise you noise enough to enable you to 
take your man aside without any difficulty, while at a party of 
that kind premeditation can hardly be suspected.”’ 

‘‘The idea is certainly a good one—probability alone is 
wanting.” 

‘¢ Probability ?”’ 

‘Certainly. You forget that I have been married scarcely 
a year, and that I have no contingent to account for my 
presence that evening among your party.”’ 

19 








290 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘That is true. I had not thought of that.”’ 

‘* But let me consider,’’ said the minister. ‘‘ Among your 
guests will there be the little Roche-Hugons? ”’ 

‘©No doubt; the children of a man I should esteem most 
highly even if he had not the honor of so near a relationship 
to you.’’ 

‘‘Well, then, all is plain sailing. My wife will come with 
her sister-in-law, Madame de la Roche-Hugon, to see her 
nieces dancing—nothing is more complimentary on such 
occasions than to drop in without the formality of an invita- 
tion; and I, without saying anything to my wife, am gallant 
enough to come to take her home.”’ 

‘¢ Admirable!’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, ‘‘ and we by 
this little drama gain the delightful reality of your presence 
here !’’ 

‘You are too kind,”’ said Rastignac, shaking hands cordi- 
ally. ‘‘ But I believe it will be well to say nothing to Madame 
de 1’Estorade. Our puritan, if he got wind of the plan, is 
the man to stay away. It will be better that I should pounce 
on him unexpectedly like a tiger on its prey.’”’ 

‘*Quite so. A surprise for everybody !”’ 

‘¢ Then I am off,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘ for fear I should drop 
a word to Madame de 1’Estorade. I shall be able to amuse 
the King to-morrow by telling him of our little plot and the 
education of children to be political go-betweens.”’ 

“¢ Well, well,’’ said Monsieur de |’Estorade philosophically, 
‘*is not this the whole history of life: great effects from small 
causes ?’’ 

Rastignac had only just left when Madame de 1’Estorade, 
her daughter Nais, and her friends Monsieur and Madame 
Octave de Camps came into the drawing-room where the con- 
spiracy had been laid against the new deputy’s independence 
—a plot here recorded at some length as a specimen of the 
thousand-and-one trivialities to which a constitutional minister 
not infrequently has to attend. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 291 


‘‘And do you not smell the scent of a minister here ?’’ 
said Monsieur de 1’Estorade. 

‘¢ Not such a very delicious scent, I am sure,’’ replied Mon- 
sieur de Camps, who, as a Legitimist, belonged to the Oppo- 
sition. 

‘¢ That is a matter of taste,’’ said the peer. ‘‘ My dear,”’ 
he went on, addressing his wife, ‘* you have come so late that 
you have missed a distinguished visitor.’’ 

‘‘ Who is that ?’’ the countess asked indifferently. 

‘¢The minister of Public Works, who came to offer you an 
apology. He had noted with regret the unpleasant impres- 
sion made upon you by the theories put forward by that 
wretch of a Ronquerolles.”’ 

‘¢That is disturbing himself for a very small matter,’’ re- 
plied Madame de 1’Estorade, who was far from sharing her 
husband’s excitement. 

‘‘At any rate,’’ replied he, ‘‘ it was very polite of him to 
have noticed the matter.”’ 

Madame de 1’Estorade, without seeming to care much, 
asked what had passed in the course of the visit. 

‘We discussed indifferent subjects,’’ said Monsieur de 
l’Estorade craftily. ‘‘ However, I took the opportunity of 
getting a word in on the subject of Monsieur de Camps’ 
business.’’ 

‘¢Much obliged,’’ said Octave, with a bow. ‘‘If only 
you could have persuaded the gentleman to grant me a sight 
of his private secretary, who is as invisible as himself, be- 
tween ‘them they might arrange to give me an interview,”’ 

‘*You must not be annoyed with him,’’ said Monsieur de 
VEstorade. ‘‘ Though his office is not strictly political, Ras- 
tignac has, of course, been much taken up with election 
matters. Now that he is sae we will, if you like, call on 
him together one morning.’ 

‘*T hesitate to trouble you about a matter het ought to go 
smoothly of itself; I am not asking a favor. I never will ask 


292 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


one of this Government ; but since Monsieur de Rastignac is 
the dragon in charge of the metallic treasures of the soil, 
I am bound to go through the regular channel and apply to 
him.” 

‘¢ We can settle all that, and I have started the thing in 
the right direction,’’ replied Monsieur de 1’ Estorade. 

Then, to change the conversation, he said to Madame de 
Camps— 

“Well, and the chAlet, is it really such a marvel ?’’ 

‘‘Oh,’’ said Madame Octave, ‘it is a fascinating place; 
you can have no idea of such elegant perfection and such ideal 
comfort.”’ 

‘¢ And Marie-Gaston ?’’ asked Monsieur de 1|’Estorade, much 
as Orgon asks, ‘‘ And Tartuffe?’’—but with far less anxious 
curiosity. 

‘‘He was—I will not say quite calm,’’ replied Madame de 
l’Estorade, ‘‘ but certainly quite master of himself. His be- 
havior was all the more satisfactory because the day began 
with a serious disappointment.’’ 

‘What happened ?’”’ asked Monsieur de 1’Estorade. 

‘“< Monsieur de Sallenauve could not come with him,’’ cried 
Nais, making it her business to reply. 

She was one of those children, brought up in a hot-house, 
who intervene rather oftener than they ought in matters that 
are discussed in their presence. 

‘* Nais,’’ said her mother, ‘‘ go and ask Mary to put your 
hair up.’’ 

The child perfectly understood that she was sent away to 
her English nurse for having spoken out of season, and she 
went off with a little pout. 

‘*This morning,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, as soon as 
Nais had closed the door, ‘‘ Monsieur Marie-Gaston and Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve were to have set out together for Ville- 
d’Avray, to receive us there, as had been arranged ; last even- 
ing they had a visit from the organist who was so active in 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 293 


promoting Monsieur de Sallenauve’s election—he came to 
hear the Italian housekeeper sing and decide as to whether she 
were fit to appear in public.”’ 

‘*To be sure!’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade. ‘‘ Now we 
have ceased to make statues, we must quarter her somewhere! ’’ 

** As you say,’’ answered his wife, rather tartly. ‘‘ Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve, to silence slander, was anxious to enable 
her to follow out her own idea of going on the stage; but he 
wished first to have the opinion of a judge who is said to be 
remarkably competent. The two gentlemen went with the 
organist to Saint-Sulpice, where the handsome Italian sings 
every evening in the services for the month of Mary. After 
hearing her—‘ That contralto has at least sixty thousand francs 
in her throat !’ the organist remarked.”’ 

‘‘Just the income I derive from my forges!’’ remarked 
Octave de Camps. . 

‘On returning home,’’ Madame de 1’Estorade went on, 
“¢ Monsieur de Sallenauve told his housekeeper of the opinion 
pronounced on her performance, and with the utmost circum- 
spection he insinuated that she must now soon be thinking of 
making her living, as she had always intended. ‘Yes, I think 
the time is come,’ said Signora Luigia. Then she closed the 
conversation, saying, ‘ We will speak of it again.’ This morn- 
ing at breakfast they were much surprised at having seen 
nothing of the signora, who was habitually an early riser. 
Fancying she must be ill, Monsieur de Sallenauve sent a 
woman who comes to do the coarser cleaning to knock at her 
door. No answer. More and more anxious, the two gentle- 
men went themselves to find out what was happening. 

** After knocking and calling in vain, they determined to 
turn the key and goin. In the room—nobody ; but instead, 
a letter addressed to Monsieur de Sallenauve. In this letter 
the Italian said that, knowing herself to be in his way, she 
was retiring to the house of a woman she knew, and thanked 
him for all his kindness to her.’’ 


294 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢The bird had felt its wings!’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estor- 
ade. ‘It had flown away.’’ 

‘That was not Monsieur de Sallenauve’s idea,’’ said the 
countess. ‘‘He does not for an instant suspect her of an im- 
pulse of ingratitude. Before explaining to the meeting of 
voters the relation in which they stood, Monsieur de Salle- 
nauve, having ascertained that he would be questioned about 
it, had with great delicacy written asking her whether this 
public avowal would not be too painful to her. She replied 
that she left it entirely to him. At the same time, he no- 
ticed on his return that she was out of spirits, and treated him 
with more than usual formality; whence he now concludes 
that, fancying herself a burden to him, in one of those fits of 
folly and temper of which she is peculiarly capable, she has 
thought it incumbent on her to leave his house without allow- 
ing him in any way to concern himself with providing for her 
in the future.’’ 

‘¢ Well, well,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, ‘‘ luck go with 
her! <A good riddance.’’ 

‘‘Neither Monsieur de Sallenauve nor Monsieur Marie- 
Gaston takes such a stoical view of the matter. Knowing the 
woman’s determined and headstrong nature, they fear lest she 
should have laid violent hands on her life—an idea which her 
previous history justifies. Or else they fear that she has been 
ill advised.’’ 

“T adhere to my opinion,’’ replied Monsieur de 1’Estorade. 
‘‘ And in spite of immaculate virtue on both sides, I maintain 
that he has been caught by her.”’ 

“‘At any rate,’’ remarked Madame de 1’Estorade, empha- 
sizing the word, ‘‘ it does not seem that she has deen caught.” 

‘*T do not agree with you,’’ said Madame de Camps. 
‘*Flying from a person is more than often a proof of very 
true love.’’ 

Madame de 1’Estorade looked at her friend with some 
,vexation, and a faint color flushed her cheeks, But this no 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 295 


one noticed, the servant having thrown the double doors open 
and announced that dinner was served. 

After dinner, they proposed to go to the play; it is one of 
the amusements that Parisians most miss in the country; and 
Monsieur Octave de Camps, whose odious ironworks, as 
Madame de 1’Estorade called them, had made him a sort of 
‘‘Wild Man of the Woods,’’ had come to town eager for this 
diversion, for which his wife, a serious and stay-at-home 
woman, was far from sharing his taste. 

So when Monsieur de Camps spoke of going to the Porte 
Saint-Martin to see a fairy piece that was attracting all Paris, 
his wife replied— 

‘* Neither I nor Madame de 1’Estorade have any wish to go 
out. We are very tired with our expedition, and will give up 
our places to Nais and René, who will enjoy the marvels of 
the ‘ Rose-fairy’ far more than we should.’’ 

The two children awaited the ratification of this plan with 
such anxiety as may be imagined. Their mother made no 
objection ; and thus, a few minutes later, the two ladies, who 
since Madame de Camps’ arrival in Paris had not once been 
able to escape from their surroundings for a single chat, found 
themselves left to an evening of confidential talk. 

**Not at home to anybody,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade to 
Lucas, when the party were fairly off. 

Then, taking as her starting-point the last words spoken by 
Madame de Camps before dinner— 

‘¢'You really have, my dear friend,’’ said she, ‘‘a stock of 
the sharpest little arrows, which go as straight to their mark 
as so many darts.’’ 

‘< Now that we are alone,’’ replied Madame Octave, ‘‘I am 
going to deal you blows with a bludgeon; for, as you may 
suppose, I have not traveled two hundred leagues and aban- 
doned the care of our business, which Monsieur de Camps 
has trained me to manage very competently when he is absent, 
only to tell you sugared truths.’’ 


296 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


“‘T am willing to hear anything from you,’’ said Madame 
de l’Estorade, pressing her friend’s hand—her dear conscience- 
keeper, as she called her. 

‘Your last letter simply frightened me.’’ 

‘‘Why? Because I myself told you that this man frightened 
me, and that I would find some means of keeping him ata 
distance?’”’ 

‘*Yes. Until then I had doubted what my advice ought to 
be; but from that moment I became so uneasy about you, that 
in spite of all Monsieur de Camps’ objections to my making 
the journey, I was determined to come—and here I am.’’ 

‘¢ But, I assure you, I do not understand is 

“‘Well, supposing Monsieur de Camps, Monsieur Marie- 
Gaston—or even Monsieur de Rastignac, though his visits 
intoxicate your husband with delight—were either of them to 
get into the habit of regular calling, would it disturb you as 
much ?”’ 

‘No, certainly not; but neither of these men has any 
such claim on me as this man has.’’ 

“Do you believe, tell me truly, that Monsieur de Salle- 
nauve is in love with you?”’ 

**No. I believe, I am perfectly certain, that he is not; 
but I also believe that on my part i 

“We will come to that presently. What I want to know 
now is whether you wish that Monsieur de Sallenauve should 
fall in love with you?”’ 

‘God forbid ?”’ 

“Well, an excellent way of drawing him to your heel is to 
hurt his conceit, to be unjust and ungrateful—to compel him, 
in short, to think about you.’’ 

‘* But is not that a rather far-fetched notion, my dear?’”’ 

‘‘Why, my dear child, have you never observed that men, 
if they have any subtlety of feeling, are more readily caught 
by severity than by softness; that we plant ourselves most 
solidly in their minds by a stern attitude; that they are very 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 297 


like those little lap-dogs, who never want to bite till you 
snatch away your hand?’”’ 

‘‘Tf that were the case, every man we scorn and never even 
think of glancing at would be a lover!”’ 

‘Now, my dear, do not put nonsense into my mouth. 
Though he may not love you, he loves your semblance; and, 
as you said the other day, wittily enough, what is there to 
prevent him, now that the other is evidently lost beyond 
recall, from a ricochet into love for you?”’ 

‘* But, on the contrary, he has better hopes than ever of 
finding the lady, by the help of a very clever seeker who is 
making inquiry.’’ 

‘‘ Well and good ; but supposing he should not find her for 
a long time to come, are you to spend the time in getting him 
on your hands?’”’ 

‘‘Dear Dame Morality, I do not at all accept your theory, 
at any rate so far as he is concerned: he will be very busy ; 
he will be far more devoted to the Chamber than to me; he is 
aman of high self-respect, who would be disgusted by such 
mean behavior on my part, and think it supremely unjust and 
ungrateful ; and if I try to put two feet of distance between 
us, he will put four, you may be quite certain.”’ 

«But you, my dear?’’ said her friend. 

‘* How—I?”’ 

‘* Yes—you who are not so busy, who have not the Chamber 
to absorb you, who have—I will allow—plenty of self-respect, 
but who know as much about affairs of the heart as a school- 
girl or a wet-nurse—what is to become of you under the per- 
ilous regimen you propose to follow ?”’ 

‘“*T! If Ido not love him when I see him, I shall still 
less love him when he is absent.”’ 

“*So that if you found him accepting this ostracism with 
indifference, your woman’s pride would not be in the least 
shocked ?”’ 

‘‘Of course not; it is that at which I aim.”’ 


298 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘*And Nais, who dreams only of him, and who will say even 
more emphatically than on the day when he first dined with 
you: ‘ How well he talks, mamma!’”’ 

‘Oh! if you take a child’s silly chatter into account 

‘*And Monsieur de 1’Estorade, who annoys you already 
when, in his blind devotion to party spirit, he utters some ill- 
natured insinuation about Monsieur de Sallenauve—will you 
silence him on every occasion when he is perpetually talking 
about this man, denying his talents, his public spirit? You 
know the verdict men always pronounce on those who do not 
agree with their opinions.’’ 

‘<In short,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, ‘‘ you mean to say 
that I shall never be so much tempted to think of him as when 
he has gone quite out of my ken?’”’ 

‘‘What has happened to you once, my dear, when he fol- 
lowed you about, and his sudden disappearance surprised you, 
like the silence when a drum that has been deafening you for 
an hour on end abruptly stops its clatter.’’ 

‘In that there was reason. His absence upset a plan.’’ 

‘Listen to me, my dear,’’ said Madame de Camps gravely; 
‘‘T have read and re-read your letters, In them you were 
more natural and less argumentative ; and they left me one 
clear impression—that Monsieur Sallenauve had certainly 
touched your heart if he had not invaded it.’’ 

At a gesture of denial from Madame de 1’Estorade, her 
strenuous Mentor went on— 

‘*T know you have fortified yourself against such a notion. 
And how could you admit to me what you have so carefully 
concealed from yourself? But the thing that is, zs. You 
cannot feel the magnetic influence of a man; you cannot be 
aware of his gaze—even without meeting his eye ; you cannot 
exclaim, ‘You see, madame, I am invulnerable to love,’ with- 
out having been more or less hit already.”’ 

‘¢But so many things have happened since I wrote those 
preposterous things !”’ 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 299 


‘Tt is true, he was only a sculptor, and now, in the course 
of time, he may possibly be in the Ministry, like—I will not 
say Monsieur de Rastignac, for that is not saying much, but 
like Canalis the great poet.’’ 

‘*T like a sermon to have some conclusion,’’ said Madame 
de 1’Estorade pettishly. 

‘“You say to me,’’ replied Madame de Camps, ‘‘ exactly 
what Vergniaud said to Robespierre on the 31st of May, for 
in the solitude of our wilderness I have been reading the his- 
tory of the French Revolution; and I reply in Robespierre’s 
words, ‘ Yes, I am coming to the conclusion ’—a conclusion 
against your pride as a woman, who having reached the age of 
two-and-thirty without suspecting what love might be even in 
married life, cannot admit that at so advanced an age she 
should yield to the universal law; against the memory of 
all your sermons to Louise de Chaulieu, proving to her that 
there is no misfortune so great as a passion that captures the 
heart—very much as if you were to argue that an inflammation 
of the lungs was the worst imprudence a sick man could 
commit; against your appalling ignorance, which conceives 
that merely saying ‘Z w¢// not’ in a resolute tone is stronger 
than an inclination complicated by a concurrence of circum- 
stances from which the cleverest woman could scarcely shake 
herself free.’’ 

‘But the practical conclusion ?’’ said Madame de 1’Esto- 
rade, impatiently patting her knee with her pretty hand. 

‘¢ My conclusion is this,’’ replied her friend. ‘‘Ido not 
really see any danger of your drowning unless you are so 
foolish as to try to stem the stream. You are firm-tempered, 
you have good principles, and are religious ; you worship your 
children, and for their sakes you esteem their father, Monsieur 
de |’Estorade, who has now for more than fifteen years been 
the companion of your life. With so much ballast you will 
not upset, and, believe me, you are well afloat.’” 

‘* Well, then?’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade. 


300 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘Well, then, there is no necessity for violent efforts, with 
very doubtful results, in my opinion, to preserve an unmoved 
attitude under impossible conditions, when you have already 
to a great extent abandoned it. You are quitesure that Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve will never think of inviting you to take a 
step further; you have said that he is leagues away from 
thinking of such a thing.” 

‘‘Then Iam to make a friend of Monsieur de Sallenauve ?”’ 
said Madame de 1’Estorade pensively. 

‘Yes, my dear, to save yourself from his becoming a fixed 
idea—a regret—a remorse—three things which poison life.’’ 

‘‘With the world looking on; with my husband, who has 
already had one fit of jealousy! ’’ 

‘My dear, you may compromise yourself just as much or 
more in the eyes of the world by your efforts to mislead it as 
by the liberty you frankly allow yourself. Do you imagine, 
for instance, that your abrupt departure last evening from the 
Rastignacs’, in order to avoid any discussion of your obliga- 
tions to Monsieur de Sallenauve, can have escaped observa- 
tion P 

‘Your husband is, I think, somewhat altered, and not for 
the better. What used to be attractive in him was the perfect 
respect, the unlimited deference he showed for your person, 
your ideas, your impressions, everything about you; that sort 
of dog-like submissiveness gave him a dignity he had no idea 
of, for there is real greatness in knowing how to obey and to 
admire. I may be mistaken, but I think politics have spoilt 
him; as you cannot fill his seat in the Upper Chamber, it has 
dawned on his mind that he could quite well live without 
you. In your place I should keep a sharp eye on such fancies 
for independence ; and since this question is the order of the 
day, I should make it a cabinet question on the point of Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve.’’ 

‘‘But do you know, my dear friend,’ said Madame de 
l’Estorade, laughing, ‘‘that you are delightfully pestilential, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 301 


and that if I acted on your advice I should bring down fire 
and sword ?”’ 

‘*Not at all, my child; I am simply a woman of five-and- 
forty, who has always looked on things in their practical 
aspect; and I did not marry my husband, to whom I am 
passionately attached, till I was well assured, by putting him 
to a severe test, that he also was worthy of my esteem. It is 
not I who make life what it is; I take it as I find it, trying to 
bring order and fossibility into all the incidents that may 
occur. Iam not frantic passion like Louise de Chaulieu, nor 
am I exaggerated good sense like Renée de l’Estorade. Iam 
a sort of jesuit in petticoats, convinced that rather wide sleeves 
are more serviceable than sleeves that are too tight about the 
wrists ; and I never set my heart on the Quest of the Abso- 
lute.’”’ 

At this moment Lucas opened the drawing-room door and 
announced Monsieur de Sallenauve. 

As Sallenauve took his seat in a chair the man pushed for- 
ward for him— 

“¢You see,’’? Madame de Camps whispered to her friend, 
‘‘the servants even have an instinctive idea that he is not a 
mere ‘anybody.’ ”’ 

Madame de Camps, who had never met the new deputy, 
devoted her whole attention to studying him, and saw no 
reason to repent of preaching that he was not to be outraged. 
Sallenauve accounted for his visit by his anxious curiosity to 
know how matters had gone off at Ville-d’Avray ; if he should 
hear that Marie-Gaston had been too much upset, he was quite 
prepared, though it was already late, to set out at once and 
join him. 

As to the business that had occupied his day, he had as yet 
had no form of success. He had availed himself of his title 
of deputy, a sort of universal pass-key, to interview the pre- 
fect of police, who had referred him to Monsieur de Saint- 
Estéve of the detective department. Sallenauve, knowing, as 


302 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


all Paris knew, the past history of this man, was amazed to 
find him an official of good manners. But the great detective 
had not given him much hope. 

‘¢A woman hidden in Paris,’’ said he, ‘is literally an eel 
hidden in the deepest hole.’’ 

He himself, with the help of Jacques Bricheteau, meant to 
continue the search during the whole of the next day ; but if, 
by the evening, neither he nor the great official inquisitor had 
discovered anything, he was determined to go then to Ville- 
d’Avray to be with Marie-Gaston, concerning whom he was 
far more uneasy than Madame de 1’ Estorade. 

As he said good-night, before the return of Monsieur de 
l’Estorade and Monsieur de Camps—who was to call for his 
wife— 

‘‘Do not forget,”’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, ‘‘ that Nais’ 
party is on the evening after to-morrow. You will offend her 
mortally if you fail toappear. Try to persuade Marie-Gaston 
to come with you; it will be a little diversion at any rate.’’ 

On coming in from the theatre, Monsieur Octave de Camps 
declared that it would be many a long day before he would 
ever go to another fairy extravaganza. Nais, on the contrary, 
still bewitched by the marvels she had seen, began to give an 
eager report of the play, which showed how deeply it had 
struck her young imagination. 

As Madame de Camps went away with her husband, she 
remarked— 

‘‘That little girl would make me very anxious; she re- 
minds me of Moina d’Aiglemont. Madame de 1’Estorade 
has brought her on too fast, and I should not be surprised if 
in the future she gave them some trouble.’’ 

It is difficult to fix the exact date in the history of modern 
manners, when a sort of new religion had its rise which may 
be called the worship of children. Nor would it be any easier 
to determine what the influence was under which this cult 
acquired the extensive vogue it has now attained. Children 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 303 


now fill the place in the family which was held among the 
ancients by the household gods; and the individual who 
should fail to share this devotion would be thought not so 
much a fractious and cross-grained person, perverse and con- 
tradictory, as simply an atheist. The influence of Rousseau, 
however—who for a while persuaded all mothers to suckle 
their infants—has now died out ; still, he must be a superficial 
observer who would find a contradiction in this to the next 
remark. Any one who has ever been present at the tremen- 
dous deliberations held over the choice of a wet-nurse to live 
in the house, and understood the position this queen of the 
nursery at once takes up in the arrangements of the household, 
may be quite convinced that the mother’s renunciation of her 
rights is on her part only the first of many acts of devotion 
and self-sacrifice. The doctor and the accoucheur, whom she 
does not try to influence, declare that she is not equal to the 
task; and it is an understood thing that, solely for the sake 
of the being she has brought into the world, she resigns 
herself to the inevitable. But, then, having secured for the 
child what schoolmasters describe as excellent and abundant 
board, what frantic care and anxiety surround it! How often 
is the doctor called up at night to certify that the mildest in- 
digestion is not an attack of much-dreaded croup! How 
often is he snatched away from the bedside of the dying, and 
urgently plied with agonized questions by a mother in tears, 
who fancies that her cherub looks ‘“‘ peeky’’ or ‘‘ pasty,’’ or 
has not soiled its napkins quite as usual ! 

At last the baby has got over this first difficult stage; re- 
leased from the wet-nurse’s arms, it no longer wears a King 
Henry IV. hat, decked with plumes and tufts like an Andalusian - 
mule; but then the child, and its companions, still remind us 
of Spain: dedicated to the Virgin and arrayed in white, they 
might be taken for young statues of the Commendatore in the 
opera of ‘* Don Giovanni.’’ Others, reminding us of Walter 
Scott and the ‘‘ White Lady,’’ look as if they had come down 


304 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


from the Highlands, of which they display the costume—the 
short jacket and bare knees. 

More often the sweet idols supply in their dress what M. 
Ballanche would have called a palingenesis of national history. 
As we see, in the Tuileries, hair cut square @ /a Charles VI., 
the velvet doublets, lace and embroidered collars, the cavalier 
hats, short capes, ruffles and shoes with roses, of Louis XIII. 
and Louis XIV., we can go through a course of French 
history related by tailors and dressmakers with stricter exacti- 
tude than by Mézeray and President Hénault. 

Next come anxieties, if not as to the health, at any rate as 
to the constitution of our little household gods—for they are 
always so delicate ; and to strengthen them, a journey every 
year to the sea, or the country, or the Pyrenees, is imperatively 
ordered. And, of course, during the five or six months spent 
by the mother in these hygienic wanderings, the husband, if 
he is detained in Paris, must make the best of his widowhood, 
of his empty and dismantled house, and the upheaval of all 
his habits. 

Winter, however, brings the family home again; but do 
you suppose that these precious darlings, puffed up with pre- 
cocity and importance, can be amused, like the children born 
in the ages of heartless infanticide, with rattles, dolls, and 
twopenny Punches? What next, indeed! The boys must 
have ponies, cigarettes, and novels; the little girls must 
be allowed to play on a grand scale at being grown-up mistress 
of the house; they give afternoon dances, and evening parties 
with the genuine Guigno/ puppets from the Champs-Elysées, 
or Robert Houdin promised on the invitation card; nor are 
these like Lambert and Moliére, you may depend on it; once 
on the programme, they are secured. 

Finally, now and again these little autocrats, like Nais de 
l’Estorade, get leave to give a party on a sufficiently grown-up 
scale to make it necessary to engage a few police to guard the 
door; while at Nattier’s, at Delisle’s, and at Prévost’s the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 305 


event casts its shadow before in the purchase of silks, artificial 
flowers, and real bouquets for the occasion. From what we 
have seen of Nais, it will be understood that no one was more 
capable than she of filling the part and the duties that devolved 
on her by her mother’s temporary abdication in her favor of 
all her power and authority. 

This abdication had dated from some days before the even- 
ing now arrived ; for it was Mademoiselle Nais de l’Estorade 
who, in her own name, had requested the guests to do her the 
honor of spending the evening with her; and as Madame de 
!’Estorade would not carry the parody to such a length as to 
allow the cards to be printed, Nais had spent several days 
in writing these invitations, taking care to add in the corner 
the sacramental formula ‘‘ Dancing.”’ 

Nothing could be stranger, or, as Madame Octave de Camps 
would have said, more alarming than the perfect coolness of 
this little girl of thirteen, standing, as she had seen her 
mother do on similar occasions, at the drawing-room door, 
and toning the warmth of her welcome to the finest shades as she 
received her guests, from the most affectionate cordiality to a 
coolness verging on disdain. With her bosom friends she 
warmly shook hands in the English fashion ; for others, she had 
smiles graduated for different degrees of intimacy ; a bow or 
nod to those whom she did not know or care for; and from 
time to time the most amusing little motherly air and pet 
words for the tiny ones who are necessarily included in these 
juvenile routs, difficult and perilous as such company is to 
manage. 

To the fathers and mothers of her guests, as the party 
was not given for them, and she was acting strictly on the 
Evangelical precept, Sinite parvulos venire ad me, Nais aimed 
at distant but respectful politeness. But when Lucas, revers- 
ing the usual order of things, in obedience to her instructions, 
announced: ‘‘ Mesdemoiselles de la Roche-Hugon, Madame 
la Baronne de la Roche-Hugon, and Madame la Comtesse de 

20 


306 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Rastignac,”’ the cunning little puss abandoned this studied 
reserve ; she rushed forward to meet the minister’s wife, and, 
with the prettiest possible grace, she seized her hand and 
kissed it. 

Nais could not accept every invitation to dance which the 
elegant little dandies vied with each other in pressing on her, 
and, indeed, she got a little confused over the order of her 
engagements. In spite of the famous ‘‘ entente cordiale,’’ her 
heedlessness was near causing a revival of the perennial rivalry 
of France and perfidious Albion. A quadrille promised twice 
over to a young English nobleman, aged ten, and a boy from 
a preparatory naval school—Barniol’s school—was about to 
result in something more than railing accusations, for the 
young heir to the English peerage had already doubled his 
fist in attitude to box. 

This squabble being settled, another disaster befell: a very 
small boy, seeing the servant bring in a tray of cakes and 
cooling drinks after a polka, which had made him very hot, 
was anxious to refresh himself; but as he was too short to 
reach the level at which the objects of his desire were held by 
the footman, he unfortunately tried clinging to the rim of the 
tray to bring it within reach; the tray tilted, lost its balance, 
and one of its corners serving as a gutter, there flowed, as 
from the urn of a mythological river-god, a sort of cascade of 
mingled orgeat, currant-syrup, and capillaire, of which the 
fountain-head was the overturned glasses. It would have been 
well if only the rash infant himself had suffered from the sud- 
den sticky torrent; but in the confusion caused by the catas- 
trophe, ten innocent victims were severely splashed, among 
them five or six infant bacchantes, who, enraged at seeing 
their garments stained, seemed ready to make a second Or- 
pheus of the luckless blunderer. 

While he was rescued with difficulty from their hands, and 
delivered over to those of a German governess, who had has- 
tened to the scene of the uproar— 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 807 


‘¢What could Nais be thinking of,’’ said a pretty, fair- 
haired little girl to a youthful Highlander with whom she had 
been dancing all the evening, “to invite little children no 
bigger than that ?’’ 

‘‘Oh, I quite understand,”’ said the Highlander; ‘‘ he is a 
little boy belonging to the Accountant Office people; Nais 
was obliged to ask him on account of his parents; it was a 
matter of civility.” 

At the same time putting his hand through a friend’s arm— 

‘*T say, Ernest,’’ he went on, ‘‘I could smoke a cigar! 
Suppose we try and find a corner out of all this riot.”’ 

‘*T cannot, my dear fellow,’’ replied Ernest mysteriously. 
‘You know that Léontine always makes a scene when she 
finds out that I have been smoking. She is in the sweetest 
mood to-night. There, look what she has just given me!”’ 

‘‘A horse-hair ring, with two flaming hearts!’’ said the 
Highlander scornfully. ‘*Why, every schoolboy makes 
them !”’ 

‘Then, pray, what have you to show?’’ retorted Ernest, 
much nettled. 

‘‘Oh!’’ said the Highlander, ‘ better than that.” 

And with a consequential air he took out of the sporran,* 
which formed part of his costume, a sheet of scented blue 
paper. 

‘¢There,’’ said he, holding it under Ernest’s nose, ‘just 
smell that.’’ 

Ernest, with conspicuous lack of delicacy, snatched at the 
note and got possession of it; the Highlander, in a rage, 
struggled to get it back. Then Monsieur de 1’Estorade inter- 
vened, and having not the remotest suspicion of the cause 
of the fray, separated the combatants, so that the spoiler 
could enjoy the fruits of his crime unmolested in a corner. 
The paper was blank. The young rascal had stolen the sheet 
of scented paper that morning from his mamma’s blotting- 


* The pouch of fur worn in front of the kilt. 


808 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


book—she perhaps would have made some less immaculate 
thing of it. 

Ernest presently returned it to the Highlander— 

‘‘ Here; I give you back your letter,’’ said he, in a tone of 
derision. ‘‘ It is desperately compromising ! ’’ 

‘Keep it, sir,’’ replied the other. <I will ask you for it 
to-morrow under the chestnut-trees in the Tuileries. _Mean- 
while, you must understand that we can have nothing more to 
say to each other!’”’ 

Ernest’s demeanor was less chivalrous. His only reply was 
to put the thumb of his right hand to his nose, spreading his 
fingers and turning an imaginary handle—an ironical demon- 
stration which he had learned from seeing it performed by his 
mother’s coachman. Then he went off to find his partner 
for a quadrille that was being formed. ° 


Sallenauve, who had returned about four in the afternoon 
from spending two days at Ville-d’Avray, could not give 
Madame de 1’Estorade a good report of his friend. Under 
a mask of cold resignation, Marie-Gaston was in deep dejec- 
tion; and the most serious cause of anxiety, because it was so 
unnatural, was that he had not yet been to visit his wife’s 
grave ; it was as though he foresaw the risk of such agitation 
as he really dared not face. This state of mind had so 
greatly disturbed Sallenauve, that, but for fear of really dis- 
tressing Nais by not appearing at her ball, he would not have 
left his friend, who was by’no means to be persuaded to come 
to Paris with him. 

It may be remembered that one of Bixiou’s chief grievances 
against Dorlange had been the sculptor’s ambition, if not 
indeed to know everything, at any rate to examine every- 
thing. During the last year especially Sallenauve, having 
spent no time in his art but what was needed for the ‘‘ Sainte- 
Ursule,’’ had been at leisure to devote himself to the scientific 
studies which justify a parliamentary representative in speak- 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 309 


ing with authority when they can serve to support or illustrate 
his political views. 

Hence, though in talking to Monsieur Godivet, the registrar 
of taxes at Arcis, he had modestly expressed himself as igno- 
rant of the details of that official’s functions, he had given his 
attention to the various elements on which they bore—the 
customs, conveyancing-fees, stamps, and direct or indirect 
taxes. Then, in turning to the science—so problematical, 
and yet so self-confident that it has assumed a name—Poli- 
tical Economy—Sallenauve had studied with no less care the 
various sources which contribute to form the mighty river of 
the nation’s wealth; and the branch of the subject relating to 
mines, the matter just now of preponderating interest to Mon- 
sieur de Camps, had not been neglected. The ironmaster had 
been so exclusively interested in the question of iron ores 
that he had much to learn in the other branches of metallurgy, 
and his delight may be imagined on hearing from the newly 
made deputy a sort of ‘‘ Arabian Nights’ ’’ tale of the riches 
of the land, though, certified by science, there could be no 
doubt of the facts. 

‘‘Do you mean, monsieur,’’ cried Monsieur de Camps, 
‘*that beside our coal and iron mines we have deposits of 
copper, lead, and even of silver?’”’ 

“If you will only consult some specialist, he will tell you 
that the famous mines of Bohemia and Saxony, of Russia and 
of Hungary, are not to be compared to those that exist in the 
Pyrenees; in the Alps from Briangon to the Isére; in the 
Cevennes, especially about the Lozére ; in the Puy-de-Déme ; 
in Brittany and in the Vosges. In the Vosges, not far from 
the town of Saint-Dié, I can tell you of a single vein of silver 
ore that runs with a width of from fifty to eighty métres for a 
distance of about eight miles.’’ 

‘* How is it, then, that this mineral wealth has never been 
worked ?”’ 

““It was, at one time,’’ said Sallenauve, ‘‘ at a distant period, 


? 


310 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


especially during the Roman dominion in Gaul. These mines 
were abandoned at the fall of the Roman Empire, but worked 
again during the Middle Ages by the clergy and the lords of 
the soil; then, during the struggle between the feudal nobles 
and the sovereign, and the long civil wars which devastated 


- the country, the working was given up, and no one has taken 


it up since.’’ 

‘¢ And you are sure of the facts?’’ 

‘* Ancient writers, Strabo and others, all speak of these 
mines; the tradition of their working survives in the districts 
where they lie; imperial decrees and the edicts of kings bear 
witness to their existence and to the value of their output ; 
and in some places there is still more practical evidence in 
excavations of considerable length and depth, shafts and 
caverns hewn out of the living rock, and all the traces which 
bear witness to the vast undertakings that immortalized Roman 
enterprise. To this may be added the evidence of modern 
geological science, which has everywhere confirmed and am- 
plified these indications.’’ 

But here Lucas threw open the drawing-room door and 
announced in his loudest and most impressive tones: ‘* Mon- 
sieur the Minister of Public Works.”’ 

The effect on the assembly was electrical; it even broke in 
on the /éte-d-iéte of the two new friends. 

‘*Let us have a look at this little Rastignac who has blos- 
somed into a public personage,’’ said Monsieur de Camps dis- 
dainfully, as he rose. 

But in his heart it struck him that this was an opportunity 
of getting hold of the inaccessible minister; in virtue of the 
sound principle that a bird in hand is worth two in the bush, 
he left the hidden fortune revealed to him by Sallenauve to 
rest in peace, and went back to his iron-mine. Sallenauve, 
on his part, foresaw an introduction to be inevitable; it seemed 
to him impossible but that Monsieur de 1’ Estorade’s Conser- 
vative zeal would contrive to bring it about. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 311 


And what would his allies of the Opposition say to the 
news, which would certainly be reported on the morrow, that 
a representative of the Extreme Left had been seen in a 
drawing-room in conversation with a minister so noted for his 
ardor and skill in making political proselytes? Sallenauve 
had already had a taste of his party’s ideas of tolerance in the 
office of the ‘‘ National ;’’ he had heard it insinuated that the 
affectation of moderation promised by his profession of polit- 
ical faith was not to be taken literally as to his parliamentary 
conduct; that, in fact, he would soon find himself deserted 
if he should attempt to make his practice agree with his 
theories. 

Anxious as he was, too, about Marie-Gaston, having put in 
an appearance at Nais’ party, he was eager now to return to 
the Ville-d’Avray, and for all these reasons he determined to 
profit by the general excitement and beat a retreat. By quiet 
and simple tactics he got round to the door, and hoped to 
escape without being observed. But he had reckoned without 
Nais, to whom he had promised a quadrille. The instant he 
laid his hand on the door-handle the little girl sounded the 
alarm, and Monsieur de 1’Estorade, with what precipitancy 
may be imagined, took her part to detain the deserter. Seeing 
that his ruse had failed, Sallenauve dared not commit himself 
to a retreat which would have been in bad taste by assuming 
an importance suggestive of political priggishness; so he took 
his chance of what might happen, and, after graciously allow- 
ing himself to be reinstated on Mademoiselle Nais’ list of 
partners, he remained. 

Monsieur de |’Estorade knew Sallenauve to be too clever a 
man to become the dupe of any finessing he might attempt to 
throw in the minister’s way. He therefore acted with perfect 
simplicity ; and a quarter of an hour after Monsieur de Ras- 
tignac’s arrival, they came to the deputy arm in arm, the host 
saying— 

“‘Monsieur de Rastignac, minister of Public Works, has 


312 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


desired me before the battle begins to introduce him to one 
of the generals of the hostile force.’’ 

‘¢ Monsieur le Ministre does me too much honor,’’ said 
Sallenauve ceremoniously. ‘‘ Far from being a general, I 
am but one of the humblest and least known of the rank and 
file,** 

‘‘Nay!’’ said the minister, ‘‘the fight at Arcis-sur-Aube was 
no small victory ; you sent our men pretty smartly to the right- 
about, monsieur.’’ 

‘« There was nothing,’’ said de Sallenauve, ‘‘ very astonish- 
ing in that, monsieur ; as you may have heard, we had a saint 
on our side.’’ 

‘‘At any rate,’’ replied Rastignac, ‘‘I prefer such an issue 
to that which had been planned for us by a man whom I had 
believed to be more capable, and whom we sent down to the 
scene of action. That Beauvisage would seem to be hope- 
lessly stupid ; he would have reflected on us if we had got him 
in; and, after all, he was only Left Centre, like that lawyer, 
Giguet. Now the Left Centre is, in fact, our worst enemy, 
because, while traversing our politics, it aims principally at 
getting into office.’’ 

‘Oh!’ said Monsieur de |’Estorade, ‘‘ from what you were 
told of the man, he would have been whatever he was bidden 
to be:’* 

“‘No, no, my dear fellow, don’t fancy that. Fools often 
cling more closely than you might believe to the flag under 
which they have enlisted. Going over to the enemy implies 
a choice, and that means a rather complicated mental process ; 
obstinacy is far easier.’’ 

‘¢T quite agree with the minister,’’ said Sallenauve; ‘‘ the 
extremes of innocence and cunning are equally proof against 
being talked over.’’ 

‘You kill your man kindly,’’ said Monsieur de |’Estorade, 
patting Sallenauve on the shoulder. ; 

Then seeing, or pretending to see, in the mirror over the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 313 


chimney-shelf by which they stood, a signal that he was 
wanted— 

‘‘Coming,’’ said he over his shoulder, and having thus 
thrown the foes together, he went off, as if he were required 
for some duty as host. 

Sallenauve was determined not to look like a schoolgirl 
frightened out of her wits at the notion of being left alone with 
a gentleman ; since they had met, he would put a good face on 
the matter, and, speaking at once, he asked whether the min- 
istry had any large number of bills to lay before the Houses, 
which would meet a few days hence. 

‘‘No, very few,’’ replied Rastignac. ‘‘We honestly did 
not expect to remain in office; we appealed to an election 
because in the confusion of public opinion forced on by the 
press, we felt it our duty to bring it to its bearings, and com- 
pel it to know its own mind by requiring it to declare itself. 
We had no hope of the result proving favorable to ourselves ; 
and the victory, it must be confessed, finds us quite unpre- 
pared.’’ 

‘‘Like the peasant,’’ said Sallenauve, laughing, ‘‘ who, 
expecting the end of the world, did not think it worth while 
to sow his field.’’ 

‘*Oh!”’ said Rastignac modestly, ‘‘ we did not regard our 
retirement as the end of the world. We believe that there 
will be men after us, and many of them, perfectly able to 
govern; only, in that temporary sojourn known as office, as 
we expected to give very few performances, we did not unpack 
our scenery and dresses. ‘The session was not in any case to 
be one of business ; the question now to be decided is between 
what is called the Chateau, the personal influence of the sov- 
ereign, and parliamentary supremacy. This question will 
inevitably come to the front when we are required to ask for 
the Secret Service fund. When it has been settled one way or 
the other, the appropriations are passed, and a few acts of 
minor importance, aaa will have gotten through its 


314 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


task with credit, for it will have put an end to a heart-breaking 
struggle, and the country will know once and for all to which 
of the two powers it is to look with assurance for the promo- 
tion of its prosperity.’’ 

‘‘Then you think,” said Sallenauve, ‘‘that this is a very 
useful question to settle in the economy of a constitutional 
government ?”’ 

‘* Well, it was not we who raised it,’’ said Rastignac. ‘It 
is perhaps the outcome of circumstances; and, to a great ex- 
tent, of the impatience of some ambitious men, and of party 
tactics.”’ 

‘*So that, in your opinion, sir, one of those powers is in no 
respect to blame, and has nothing whatever to repent of ?’’ 

‘**You are a Republican,’’ replied Rastignac, ‘‘and conse- 
quently @ friori an enemy of the dynasty. It would be, I 
conceive, pure waste of time on my part to try to rectify your 
ideas as to what constitutes the course of conduct of which 
you accuse it.’’ 

‘*You are quite mistaken,’’ said the supporter of the theo- 
retical, imaginable future republic. ‘‘I have no preconceived 
hatred of the reigning dynasty. I even think that in its past 
history, variegated, if I may say so, with royal relationship 
and revolutionary impulses, there are all the elements that 
should commend it to the liberal and monarchical instincts of 
the people. At the same time, you will fail to convince me 
that the present head of the royal family is untainted by those 
extravagant notions of personal prerogative which, in the long 
run, must undermine, disfigure, and wreck the most admirable 
and the strongest institutions.’’ 

‘*Yes,’’ said Rastignac sarcastically, ‘‘ their salvation is to 
be found in the famous saying of the member for Sancerre: 
‘ The King reigns ; he does not govern !’”’ 

Whether it was that he was tired of standing or that he 
wished to show that he was quite at his ease in avoiding the 
pitfall that had so evidently been laid for him, Sallenauve, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 315 


before he answered, pulled forward an armchair for the min- 
ister, and, after seating himself, replied— 

‘Will you allow me, monsieur, to quote the example of 
another royal personage? a prince who was not thought to be 
indifferent to the prerogatives of his crown, and who certainly 
was not ignorant of constitutional procedure. In the first 
place, because, like our present King, he was not ignorant on 
any subject whatever; and, in the second place, because he 
himself had introduced the constitutional system into our 
country.” 

‘Louis XVIII.,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘ or, as the newspapers 
have it: ‘ The illustrious author of the Charter?’ ”’ 

“* Just so,’’ said Sallenauve. ‘‘ Now, let me ask you, where 
did he die ?”’ 

‘* At the Tuileries, of course.’’ 

‘¢ And his successor ?”’ 

“*In exile. I see your point.’’ 

‘¢My point is not, in fact, very difficult to discern. But 
have you observed, sir, the inference to be drawn from that 
royal career—for which I, for my part, profess entire respect ? 
Louis XVIII.* was not a citizen king. He vouchsafed the 
Charter ; it was not wrung from him. He was born nearer 
to the throne than the King whose unfortunate tendencies I 
have mentioned and was bound to inherit a larger share of , 
the ideas, infatuations, and prejudices of Court life. His per- 
son was laughable—and this in France means degeneracy ; he 
had to make the best of a new régime following a government 
which had intoxicated the people with that fine gilded smoke 
called glory; also, if he was not actually brought in by for- 
eigners, he at least came in at the heels of an invasion by 
Europe in arms. And now, shall I tell you why, in spite of 
his own original sin, and in spite of a standing conspiracy 
against his rule, he was allowed to die in peace under his 
canopy at the Tuileries ?”’ 


* This king favored the Revolution in its first stages. 


316 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* Because he was constitutional ?’’ said Rastignac, with a 
shrug. ‘‘ But can you say that we are not ?’’ 

‘In the letter, yes; in the spirit, no. When King Louis 
XVIII. placed his confidence in a prime minister, it was com- 
plete and entire ; he played no underhand game, but supported 
him to the utmost. Witness the famous edict of the 5th of 
September, and the dismissal of the undiscoverable Chamber, 
which was more royalist than himself—a thing he was well 
advised enough to disapprove. Later, a revulsion of opinion 
shook the minister who had prompted him to this action. 
That minister was his favorite—his child, as he called him. 
No matter ; yielding to constitutional necessity, after wrapping 
him in orders and titles, and everything that could deaden 
the shock of a fall, he courageously sent him abroad; and 
then he did not dig mines, or set watch, or try to make 
opportunities for surreptitiously recalling him to power. That 
minister never held office again.’’ 

‘For a man who does not hate Us,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘ you 
are pretty hard upon Us. Weare little short of forsworn to 
the constitutional compact, and Our policy, by your account, 
is ambiguous and tortuous, and suggests a certain remote like- 
ness to M. Doublemain, the sly and wily clerk in the ‘ Mariage 
de Figaro,’ ’’ 

‘*T would not say that the evil lay so deep or came from 
so far,’’ replied Sallenauve. ‘‘ We are perhaps merely a busy- 
body—only in the sense, of course, of loving to have a finger 
in everything.” 

‘* Well, monsieur, but if We were the cleverest politician in 
the kingdom !”’ 

“«That does hinder the kingdom—which is all the world— 
from having the luck now and again of being as clever as We 
ate. 

‘¢On my word !’’ said Rastignac, in the tone which seems 
to emphasize the climax of a conversation, ‘‘I wish I could 
realize a dream——”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 317 


‘*Of what?’’ said Sallenauve. 

‘*Of seeing you face to face with that meddlesome clever- 
ness which you seem to me to hold so cheap.”’ 

‘*You know, monsieur, that three-quarters of every man’s 
life are spent in imagining the impossible.”’ 

‘‘Impossible! Why? Would you be the first Opposition 
member ever seen at the Tuileries? And an invitation to 
dinner—quite publicly and ostensibly given—that would 
bring you nearer to what you judge so hardly from a dis- 
tance teed 

‘‘T should do myself the honor of refusing it, monsieur,’’ 
and he accentuated she honor in such a way as to give his own 
meaning to the word. 

“‘That is just like you, all you men of the Opposition,”’ 
cried Rastignac, ‘‘ refusing to see the light when the occasion 
offers—incapable of seeing it, in fact!”’ 

‘Do you see the light to any particular advantage, mon- 
sieur, when, in the evening, as you pass a druggist’s store, 
you get full in your eyes a glare from those gigantic glass 
jars which seem to have been invented expressly to blind peo- 
ple? 

‘¢ You are not afraid of Our beams, but of the dark lantern 
of your colleagues making their rounds.’’ 

‘¢ There is perhaps some truth in that, Monsieur le Ministre. 
A party, and the man who craves the honor of representing 
it, are like a married couple, who, if they are to get on to- 
gether, must treat each other with mutual consideration, sin- 
cerity, and fidelity, in fact as well as in form.’’ 

‘‘Then try to be moderate! Your dream, indeed, is far 
more impossible to realize than mine ; you will have some ex- 
perience yet of the consideration shown you by your chaste 
Spouse.”’ 

‘If there was any misfortune I might be certain of, it was 
that, no doubt.’’ 

“*You think that! And you, with the noble and generous 





318 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


feeling that is evident in you—can you even endure unmoved 
the slander which is perhaps already sharpening its darts ?”’ 

‘Have you yourself, monsieur, never felt its sting? or, if 
you have, did it turn you aside from the road you were follow- 
ing?’”’ 

“‘But if I were to tell you,’’ said Rastignac, lowering his 
voice, ‘‘that I have already had occasion to decline certain 
officious proposals to stir the depths of your private life, on 
a side, which, being a little less open to daylight than the 
others, has seemed particularly adapted for the setting of a 
snare ?”’ 

“¢T will not thank you, sir, for merely doing yourself justice 
by scorning the attemps of these meddlers, who are neither of 
your party nor of mine—whose only party is that of their own 
low greed and interest. But even if by some impossible chance 
they had found a loophole through which to approach you, - 
believe me, that any purpose sanctioned by my conscience 
would not have been in the least affected.”’ 

‘*Still, do but consider the constituent elements of your 
party: a rabble of disappointed schemers, of envious bru- 
tality, base imitators of ’93, despots disguised as devotees of 
liberty.”” 

‘*My party has not, and wants to dave. Yours calls itself 
Conservative—and with good reason—its principal aim being 
to keep power, places, fortune, everything it has, in its clutches. 
But at bottom, monsieur, the cooking is the same: eat, but do 
not see the process ; for, as la Bruyére says: ‘If you see a meal 
anywhere but on a well-laid table, how foul and disgusting it 
Te iad 

‘* But, at any rate, monsieur, We are not a blind alley—We 
lead to something. Now, the more you rise by superior 
character and intelligence, the less you will be allowed to get 
through with your horde of democrats in your train, for its 
triumph would mean not a mere change of policy, but a 
revolution.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 319 


‘‘But who says that I want to get through, to arrive any- 
where ?”’ 

‘‘ What, merely march without trying to attain! A certain 
breadth of faculty not only gives a man the right to aim at 
the conduct of affairs, it makes it his duty.’”’ 

‘¢To keep an eye on those who conduct them is surely a 
useful function too, and, I may add, a very absorbing one.”’ 

‘¢ You do not imagine, my dear sir,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘ that 
I should have taken so much trouble to convince Beauvisage ; 
to be sure, it must be said that with him I should have had an 
easier task.’’ 

‘¢One happy result will ensue from the introduction which 
chance has brought about,’’ said Sallenauve. ‘‘ We shall feel 
that we know each other, and in our future meetings shall be 
pledged to courtesy—which will not diminish the strength of 
our convictions.’’ 

‘¢ Then I am to tell the King, for I had special instructions 
from his majesty 

Rastignac could not finish the sentence which was his last 
cartridge, as it were ; for, as the band played the introductory 
bars of a quadrille, Nats rushed up to him, and, with a coquet- 
tish curtsey, said— 

‘¢ Monsieur le Ministre, I am very sorry, but you have taken 
possession of my partner, and you must give him up to me. 
Ihave his name down for the eleventh quadrille, and if I miss 
a turn it makes such dreadful confusion ! ’’ 

‘« You will excuse me, monsieur,’’ said Sallenauve, laughing. 
‘¢You see I am not a very red Republican.”’ 

And he went with Nais, who dragged him away by the hand. 

Madame de 1’Estorade had had a kindly thought. It had 
occurred to her that Sallenauve’s good-natured consent to 
humor Nais might cost his dignity a prick, so she had con- 
trived that some papas and mammas should join in the quad- 
rille he had been drawn into; and she herself, with the young 
Highlander, the hero of the blank billets-doux—who, little as 





320 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


she suspected it, was quite capable of making mischief for her 
—took the place of vis-d-v7s to the little girl. 

Nais was beaming with pride and delight ; and at a moment, 
when in the figure of the dance she had to take her mother’s 
hand— 

‘‘Poor mamma,’’ said she, giving it an ecstatic clutch, 
“* but for Azm you would not have me here now!”’ 

The sudden and unexpected expression of this reminiscence 
so startled Madame de 1’Estorade that she was seized with a 
return of the nervous spasm that had attacked her at the sight 
of the child’s narrow escape. She was obliged to take a seat, 
and seeing her turn pale, Sallenauve, Nais, and Madame de 
Camps all three came up to know if she was ill. 

‘Tt is nothing,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, as she turned 
to Sallenauve—‘‘ only this child reminded me of our immense 
obligation to you. ‘But for him,’ she said to me, ‘ you would 
not have me here, poor mamma!’ And it is true, monsieur, 
but for your magnanimous courage, where would she be now ?”’ 

‘«Come, come, be calm,’’ said Madame Octave, hearing 
that her friend’s voice was broken and hysterical. ‘‘ Have you 
no sense that you can be so upset by a little girl’s speech?” 

‘¢She has more feeling than we have,’’ replied Madame de 
l’Estorade, throwing her arms round Nais, who, with the rest, 
was saying: ‘‘ Come, mamma, be calm.”’ 

‘“‘There is nothing in the world that she thinks more of 
than her preserver—while her father and I—we have hardly 
expressed our gratitude.’’ 

‘‘ Why, you have overwhelmed me, madame,’’ said Salle- 
nauve politely. 

‘¢ Overwhelmed ?’’ said Nais, shaking her pretty head dubi- 
ously. ‘‘If any one had saved my daughter, I should treat 
him very differently! ’’ 

‘Nais,’’ said Madame de Camps severely, ‘‘ little girls 
should be seen and not heard when their opinion is not 
asked.”’ 


’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 321 


‘¢What is the matter? ’’ said Monsieur de l’Estorade, who 
now joined the group. 

‘‘ Nothing,’’ said Madame de Camps. ‘‘ Dancing made 
Renée a little giddy.’’ 

‘‘ And is she all right again? ’’ 

‘Yes, I have quite recovered,’’ replied Madame de 1’Esto- 
rade. 

‘‘ Then come to say good-night to Madame de Rastignac ; 
she is just going.”’ 

In his eagerness to attend the minister’s wife, Monsieur de 
)’Estorade did not think of giving his arm to his own wife. 
Sallenauve offered her his. As they crossed the room, Mon- 
sieur de |’Estorade leading the way so that he could not hear, 
his wife said to Sallenauve— 

‘‘You were talking to Monsieur de Rastignac for a long 
time. He tried, no doubt, to convert you?’’ 

‘¢Do you think he has succeeded ?’’ asked Sallenauve. 

‘‘No; but these attempts at inveiglement are always un- 
pleasant. I can only beg you to believe that I was no party 
to the conspiracy. Iam not such a frenzied ministerialist as 
my husband.”’ 

‘Nor am I such a rabid revolutionary as seems to be sup- 
posed.”’ 

‘¢T only hope that these vexatious politics, which will bring 
you more than once into antagonism with Monsieur de 1’Esto- 
rade, will not sicken you of including us among your friends.”’ 

‘¢ Nay, madame, that is an honor and a happiness.’’ 

“‘Tt is not honor but pleasure that I would have you look 
for,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade eagerly. ‘‘I must parody 
Nais—‘ If I had saved anybody’s daughter, I should be less 
ceremonious.’ ”’ 

And having said this, without waiting for a reply, she re- 
leased her hand from Sallenauve’s arm, and left him not a 
little surprised at her tone, 


21 


322 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


My readers will hardly be surprised to find Madame de 
l’Estorade so entirely obedient to Madame Octave’s advice, 
ingenious perhaps rather than judicious. In fact, they must 
long since have suspected that the unimpressionable countess 
had yielded to a certain attraction toward the man who had 
not only saved her child’s life, but also appealed to her imag- 
ination through such singular and romantic accessory facts. 
No one but herself, it is quite certain, had been deluded into 
security by a conviction of Sallenauve’s perfect indifference. 
The certainty of his not caring for her was, in fact, the only 
snare into which she could trip; as a declared lover he would 
have been infinitely less dangerous. 

In considering the success that had hitherto crowned her 
stern task, one of the first elements to be reckoned with was 
the circumstance of Louise de Chaulieu. To her that poor 
reasonless woman had been like the drunken slaves, by whose 
example the Spartans were wont to give a living lesson to 
their children, and a sort of tacit wager had existed between 
the two friends. Louise de Chaulieu having thrown herself 
into the part of unchecked passion, Renée had assumed that 
of sovereign reason ; and, to gain the stakes, she had exerted 
such brave good sense and prudence as, but for this incite- 
ment, would perhaps have seemed a far greater sacrifice. But 
here was a man who cared not for her, though he thought her 
beauty ideal, who perhaps loved another woman ; a man who, 
after snatching her child from death, looked for no reward ; 
who was dignified, reserved, and absorbed in quite other in- 
terests—how, when he came into her life by a side-path, was 
she to think of him as dangerous, or to refuse him from the 
first the calm cordiality of friendship ? 

Sallenauve, meanwhile, was on his way to Ville-d’Avray, 
whither he had set out in spite of the lateness of the hour, pos- 
sessed by his fears for his friend. And this was what he was 
thinking about— 

Without having anything definite to complain of in the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 323 


countess’ attitude, Sallenauve had certainly never found her 
at all warm in her regard, and he had formed the same estimate 
of her temper and character as the rest of the world around 
her. He had seen her as a woman of remarkable intellectual 
gifts, but paralyzed as to her heart, by her absorbing and ex- 
clusive passion for her children. ‘‘ The ice-bound Madame 
de l’Estorade,’’ Marie-Gaston had once called her ; and it was 
correct if he had ever thought of making a friend of her—that 
is to say, of becoming her lover. 

Nor was it only as regarded Madame de 1’Estorade, but as 
regarded her husband, too, that Sallenauve had doubted the 
future permanency of their alliance. ‘‘ We shall quarrel over 
politics,’’ he had told himself a dozen times, and the reader 
may remember one of his letters in which he had contem- 
plated this conclusion with some bitterness. So when Mad- 
ame de l’Estorade had seemed to encourage him to take up 
an attitude of more effusive intimacy with her, what had most 
surprised him was the marked distinction she had drawn be- 
tween her husband’s probable demeanor and her own. Before 
a woman would say with such agitation as she had put into the 
inviting words: ‘‘I only hope that these vexatious politics will 
not disgust you with us as friends,’’ she must have, Sallenauve 

thought, to speak so warmly, a warmer heart than she was 

generally credited with; and this profession of alliance was 
not, he felt sure, to be taken as a mere drawing-room civility, 
or the thoughtless utterance of a transient and shallow im- 
pulse, as the little nervous attack had been which led to it 
all. 

Having thus analyzed this somewhat serious flirtation to 
repay Madame de 1’Estorade’s politeness the statesman did 
not scorn to descend to a remark, which was illogical, it must 
be owned, as regards his usual reserve, and certain memories 
of his past life. He recollected that more than once, at 
Rome, he had seen Mademoiselle de Lanty dance, and, com- 
paring the original with the duplicate, he could assure himself 


324 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


that, notwithstanding the difference in their age, the girl had 
not a more innocent air, nor had she struck him as more 
elegant and graceful. 

And in view of this fact, will not the clear-sighted reader 
—who may some time since have begun to suspect that these 
two natures, apparently so restrained, so intrenched in their 
past experiences, might ultimately come into closer contact— 
discern a certain convergence of gravitation though hitherto 
scarcely perceptible? It was, if you please, solely out of def- 
erence to Madame de Camps’ advice that Madame de 1’Es- 
torade had so completely modified her austere determination ; 
still, short of admitting some slight touch of the sentiment 
her friend had hinted at, is it likely that she would have given 
such singular vehemence to her expression of grateful regard, 
or that a mere remark from a child would have strung her 
nerves up to such a point as to surprise her into making the 
outburst ? 

On his part, not having taken advantage of the privileged 
position thus recklessly thrown open to him, our deputy was 
tempted to think, with a persistency which, if not very im- 
prudent, was at least very unnecessary, of these superficial 
graces. Madame de Camps had spoken truly: ‘‘ Friendship 
between a man and woman is neither an impossible dream — 
nor an ever-yawning gulf.’’ But in practice, it must be said, 
that this sentiment, by which we delude ourselves, proves to 
be a very narrow and baseless bridge across a torrent, need- 
ing in those who hope to cross it without difficulty much 
presence of mind on both sides and nerves less sensitive than 
Madame de 1’Estorade’s; while it is a necessary precaution 
never to look to right and left, as Sallenauve had just been 
doing. 

However, on arriving at Ville-d’Avray, Sallenauve found 
himself face to face with a strange event ; and who does not 
know how, in spite of our determination, events often disperse 
our maturest plans ? 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 325 


Sallenauve had not been mistaken in his serious anxiety as 
to his friend’s mental condition. 

When Marie-Gaston abruptly fled after his wife’s death 
from the spot where that cruel parting had occurred, he would 
have been wise to pledge himself never to see it again. 
Nature and Providence have willed it that in presence of the 
stern decrees of Death he who is stricken through the person 
of those he loves, if he accepts the stroke with the resignation 
demanded under the action of every inevitable law, does not 
for long retain the keen stamp of the first impression. In his 
famous letter against suicide, Rousseau says: ‘‘ Sadness, weari- 
"ness, regret, despair are but transient woes which never take 
root in the soul, and experience exhausts the feeling of bitter- 
ness which makes us think that our sorrow must be eternal.”’ 

But this is no longer true for those rash beings who, trying 
to escape from the first grip of the jaws of grief, evade it 
either by flight or by some immoderate diversion. All mental 
suffering is a kind of illness for which time is a specific, and 
which presently wears itself out, like everything violent. If, 
on the contrary, instead of being left to burn itself out slowly 
on the spot, it is fed by change of scene or other extreme 
measures, the action of Nature is hampered. The sufferer 
deprives himself of the balm of comparative forgetfulness 
promised to those who can endure; he merely transforms into 
a chronic disease, less visible perhaps, but more deeply seated, 
an acute attack, thrown in by checking its healthy crisis. 
The imagination sides with the heart, and, as the heart is by 
nature limited while the fancy is boundless, there is no possi- 
bility of calculating the violence of the excesses by which a man 
may be carried away under its ere-long absolute dominion. 

Marie-Gaston, as he wandered through this home where he 
had believed that after the lapse of two years he should find 
only the pathos of remembrance, had not taken a step, had 
not met with an object in his path that could fail to revive all 
his happiest days and at the same time the disaster that had 


326 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


ended them. The flowers his wife had loved, the lawns and 
trees—verdurous under the soft breath of spring, while she 
who had formed the lovely spot lay under the cold earth—all 
the dainty elegance brought together to decorate this exquisite 
nest for their love, combined to sing a chorus of lamentation, 
a long-drawn wail of anguish in the ears of him who dared to 
breathe the dangerous atmosphere. Terrified when half-way 
by the overwhelming sorrow that had seized on him, Marie- 
Gaston, as Sallenauve had observed, had not dared accomplish 
the last station of his Calvary. In absence, he had calmly 
busied himself with drawing up an estimate for the private 
tomb he had intended to build for the remains of his beloved 
Louise ; but here he could not endure even to do them pious 
homage in the village graveyard where they were laid. 

The worst, in short, might be feared from a sorrow which, 
instead of being soothed by the touch of time, was, on the 
contrary, aggravated by duration, having as it seemed found 
fresh poison for its sting. 

The door was opened by Philippe, the old man who in 
Madame Marie-Gaston’s time had been the house steward. 

‘* How is your master?’’ asked Sallenauve. 

‘He is gone, sir,’’ replied Philippe. 

‘¢ Gone—where ?”’ 

‘Yes, sir, with the English gentleman who was here when 
you left.’’ 

‘‘But without a word for me, without telling you where 
they were going?”’ 

‘¢ After dinner, when all was well, my master suddenly said 
that he wanted a few things packed for a journey, and he saw 
to them himself. At the same time, the Englishman, after 
saying he would walk in the park and smoke a cigarette, 
mysteriously asked me where he could write a letter without 
being seen by my master. I took him into my own room, but 
I dared not ask him anything about this journey, for I never saw 
any one less communicative or open. When he had written 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 327 


the letter everything was ready ; and then, without a word of 
explanation, the two gentlemen got into the English gentle- 
man’s chaise, and I heard them tell the coachman to drive to 
Paris ” 

‘* But the letter?’ said Sallenauve. 

‘Tt is addressed to you, sir, and the Englishman gave it 
me in secret, as he had written it.’’ 

‘‘Then give it me, my goodman!”’ cried Sallenauve ; and 
without going any farther than the hall where he had stood 
questioning Philippe, he hastily read it. 

His features, as the man studied them, showed great distress. 

‘¢ Tell them not to take the horses out,’’ said he. And he 
read the letter through a second time. 

When the old servant came back from delivering the order— 

«¢ At what hour did they start?’’ Sallenauve inquired. 

*¢ At about nine o’clock.”’ 

‘‘They have three hours’ start,’’ said the new deputy to 
himself, looking at his watch, which marked some minutes 
past midnight. 

He turned to get into the carriage that was to take him 
away again. Just as he was stepping into it, the steward ven- 
tured to ask: ‘‘ There is nothing alarming, I hope, in that 
letter, sir?’’ 

‘No, nothing. But your master may be absent some little 
time ; take care to keep the house in good order.”’ 

And then, like the two who had preceded him, he said: 
+* To Paris.” 





”? 


Next morning, pretty early, Monsieur de 1’Estorade was in 
his study very busy in a strange way. Jt may be remembered 
that Sallenauve had sent him a statuette of Madame de 1’Es- 
torade ; he had never been able to find a place where the work 
stood to his mind in a satisfactory light. But ever since the 
hint given him by Rastignac that his friendship with the 
sculptor might serve him but ill at Court, he had begun to agree 


328 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


with his son Armand that the artist had made Madame de 
]’Estorade look like a milliner’s apprentice; and now, when 
by his obduracy to the minister’s inveiglements Sallenauve 
had shown himself irreclaimably opposed to the Government, 
the statuette—its freshness a little dimmed, it must be owned, 
by the dust—no longer seemed presentable, and the worthy 
peer was endeavoring to discover a corner, in which it would 
be out of sight, so that he might not be required to tell the 
name of the artist, which every visitor asked, without making 
himself ridiculous by removing it altogether. So he was 
standing on the top step of a library ladder with the sculptor’s 
gift in his hands and about to place it on the top of a tall 
cabinet. There the hapless sketch was to keep company with 
a curlew and a cormorant, shot by Armand during his last 
holidays. They were the firstfruits of the young sportsman’s 
prowess, and paternal pride had decreed them the honors of 
stuffing. 

At this juncture Lucas opened the door to show in— 

** Monsieur Philippe.’’ 

The worthy steward’s age, and the confidential position he 
held in Marie-Gaston’s household, had seemed to the 1’Esto- 
rade’s factotum to qualify him for the title of ‘‘ monsieur’’—a 
civility to be, of course, returned in kind. 

The master of the house, descending from his perch, asked 
Philippe what had brought him, and whether anything had 
happened at Ville-d’Avray. The old man described his mas- 
ter’s strange departure, followed by the no less strange disap- 
pearance of Sallenauve, who had fled as if he were at the heels 
of an eloping damsel, and then he went on— 

‘‘This morning, as I was putting my master’s room tidy, a 
letter fell out of a book, addressed to Madame la Comtesse. 
As it was sealed and ready to be sent off, I thought that, per- 
haps in the hurry of packing, my master had forgotten to give 
it tometo mail. At any rate, I have brought it; Madame 
la Comtesse may, perhaps, find that it contains some explana- 





LUCAS OPENED THE DOOR TO SHOW IN—‘‘ MONSIEUR 
PHILIPPE.” 





a ae 
wie te : 
a 











THE DEPUTY F@R ARCIS. 329 


tion of this unexpected journey—I have dreamed of nothing 
else all night.’’ 

Monsieur de |’Estorade took the letter. 

‘¢ Three black seals,’’ said he, turning it over. 

‘‘It is not the color that startles me,’’ said Philippe. 
‘*Since madame died, monsieur uses nothing but black; but 
I confess the three seals struck me as strange.’’ 

‘Very good,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade; ‘I will give 
the letter to my wife.’’ 

‘If there should be anything to reassure me about my 
master,’’ said Philippe wistfully, ‘‘would you let me know, 
Monsieur le Comte ?’’ 

**You may rely on it, my good fellow. Good-morning.’’ 

‘‘T humbly beg pardon for having an opinion to offer,’’ 
said the old servant, without taking the hint thus given him; 
‘* but for fear of there being any bad news in the letter, do 
not you think, Monsieur le Comte, that it would be well to 
know it, so as to prepare Madame la Comtesse ?’”’ 

‘“Why! What! Do you suppose? ”” Monsieur de 
l’Estorade began, without finishing his question. 

‘*T do not know. My master has been very much depressed 
these last few days.’’ 

‘Tt is always a very serious step to open a letter not ad- 
dressed to one’s self,’’ said the accountant-general. ‘‘ This case 
is peculiar—the letter is addressed to my wife, but in fact was 
never sent to her—it is really a puzzling matter at 

‘Still, if by reading it you could prevent something dread- 
ful——-’’ 

‘¢ Yes—that is just what makes me hesitate.’’ 

Madame de |’Estorade settled the question by coming into 
the room. Lucas had told her of old Philippe’s arrival. 

‘*What can be the matter?’’ she asked, with uneasy curi- 
osity. 

All Sallenauve’s apprehensions of the night before recurred 
to her mind. 








330 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


When the steward had repeated the explanations he had 
already given to Monsieur de |’Estorade, she unhesitatingly 
broke the seals. 

‘¢T know so much now,”’ she said to her husband, who tried 
to dissuade her, ‘‘ that the worst certainly would be preferable 
to the suspense we should be left in.”’ 

Whatever the contents of this alarming epistle, the countess’ 
face told nothing. 

“‘And you say that your master went off accompanied by 
this English gentleman,’’ said she, ‘‘ and not under any com- 
pulsion ?”’ 

‘‘On the contrary, madame, he seemed quite cheerful.”’ 

‘‘Well, then, there is nothing to be frightened about. 
This letter has been written a long time ; and, in spite of the 
three black seals, it has no bearing on anything to-day.”’ 

Philippe bowed and departed. When the husband and wife 
were alone: 

‘‘What does he say?’’ asked Monsieur de l’Estorade, and 
he put out his hand for the letter his wife still held. 

‘““No. Do not read it,’’ said the countess, not surrender- 
ing it. 

‘¢Why not ?”’ 

“Tt will pain you. It is quite enough that I should have 
had the shock, and in the presence of the old steward, before 
whom I had to control myself.”’ 

‘* Does it speak of any purpose of suicide ?”’ 

Madame de 1’Estorade did not speak, but she nodded 
affirmatively. 

‘* But a definite, immediate purpose ?”’ 

“‘The letter was written yesterday morning; and to all 
appearance, but for the really providential presence of this 
stranger, last evening, during Monsieur de Sallenauve’s ab- 
sence, the wretched man would have carried out his fatal 
purpose.”’ 

‘¢The Englishman has, no doubt, carried him off solely to 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 331 


hinder it. That being the case, he will not lose sight of 
him.”’ 

‘¢ We may also count on Monsieur de Sallenauve’s interven_ 
tion,’’ observed Madame de |’Estorade. ‘‘ He has probably 
followed them.”’ 

‘‘Then there is nothing so very alarming in the letter,’ 
said her husband. And again he held out his hand for it. 

‘¢But when I entreat you not to read it,’’ said Madame de 
l’Estorade, holding it back. ‘*‘ Why do you want to agitate 
yourself so painfully? It is not only the idea of suicide—our 
unhappy friend’s mind is completely unhinged.”’ 

At this instant piercing shrieks were heard, uttered by 
René, the youngest of the children, and this threw his mother 
into one of those maternal panics of which she was quite 
unable to control the expression. 

‘*Good God! What has happened ?’’ she cried, rushing 
out of the room. 

Monsieur de |’ Estorade, less easily perturbed, only went as 
far as the door to ask a servant what was the matter. 

“‘It is nothing, Monsieur le Comte. Monsieur René in 
shutting a drawer pinched the tip of his finger.”’ 

The peer of France did not think it necessary to proceed 
to the scene of the catastrophe; he knew that in these cases 
he must leave his wife to give free course to her extravagant 
motherly solicitude, or take a sharp wiggzmg. As he returned 
to his seat by the table he felt a paper under his foot ; it was 
the famous letter, which Madame de 1’Estorade had dropped 
as she flew off without observing its fall. 

Opportunity, and a sort of fatality that rules human 
affairs, prompted M. de 1’Estorade, who could not under- 
stand his wife’s objections ; he hastened to satisfy his curiosity. 

Marie-Gaston wrote as follows : 


‘¢ MADAME :—This letter will not be so amusing as those I 
wrote to you from Arcis-sur-Aube. But you must not be 


332 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


frightened by the determination to which I have come. I am 
simply going to join my wife, from whom I have been too 
long parted, and to-night, soon after midnight, I shall be with 
her, never to leave her again. You and Sallenauve have, no 
doubt, remarked that it is strange that I should not yet have 
been to visit her tomb; two of my servants were saying so 
the other day, not knowing that I could overhear them. But 
I should have been a great fool to go to a graveyard and stare 
at a block of stone that cannot speak to me, when every night 
as midnight strikes I hear a little tap at my bedroom door, 
which I open at once to our dear Louise, who is not altered 
at all; on the contrary, I think she is fairer and lovelier. 
She has had great difficulty in getting my discharge from this 
world from Mary the queen of the angels; but last night she 
brought me my papers properly made out, sealed with a large 
seal of green wax, and at the same time she gave mea tiny 
phial of hydrocyanic acid. One drop sends me to sleep, and 
when I wake I am on the other side. 

‘Louise also gave me a message for you; to tell you that 
Monsieur de |’Estorade has a liver complaint and cannot live 
long; and that when he is dead you are to marry Sallenauve, 
because over there you are always restored to the husband you 
loved ; and she thinks our party of four will be much pleas- 
anter with you and me and Sallenauve than with your Mon- 
sieur de l’Estorade, who is enough to bore you to death, and 
whom you married against your will. 

‘My message delivered, I have only to wish you good 
patience, madame, during the time you have still to spend 
down here, and to subscribe myself your affectionate humble 
servant.’’ 


If, on finishing this letter, it had occurred to Monsieur de 
l’Estorade to look at himself in a glass, he would have seen 
in the sudden crestfallen expression of his features the effects 
of the unavowed but terrible blow he had dealt himself by his 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 333 


luckless curiosity. His feelings, his mind, his self-respect had 
all felt one and the same shock; and the quite obvious in- 
sanity revealed in the prediction of which he was the subject 
only made it seem more threatening. Believing, like the 
Moslems, that madmen are gifted with a sort of second- 
sight, he gave himself over at once, felt a piercing pain in his 
diseased liver, and was seized with a jealous hatred of Salle- 
nauve, his designate successor, such as must cut off any kind 
of friendly relations between them. 

At the same time, as he saw how ridiculous, how absolutely 
devoid of reason, was the impression that had taken possession 
of him, he was terrified lest any one should suspect its exist- 
ence; and with the instinctive secretiveness which always 
prompts the mortally sick to hide the mischief, he began to 
consider how he could keep from his wife the foolish act that 
had blighted his whole existence. It would seem incredible 
that lying under his very eye the fatal letter should have 
escaped his notice ; and from this to the suspicion that he had 
read it the inference was only too plain. 

He rose, and softly opening the door of his room, after 
making sure that there was nobody in the drawing-room be- 
yond, he went on tiptoe to throw the letter on the floor at 
the farthest side of the room, where Madame de 1’Estorade 
would suppose that she had dropped it. Then, like a school- 
boy who had been playing a trick, and wishes to put the 
authorities off the scent by an affectation of studiousness, he 
hastily strewed his table with papers out of a bulky official 
case, so as to seem absorbed in accounts when his wife should 
return. 

Meanwhile, as need scarcely be said, he listened in case 
anybody but Madame de 1’Estorade should come into the 
outer room where he had laid his trap; in that case he would 
have intervened at once to hinder indiscreet eyes from inves- 
tigating the document that held such strange secrets. 

Madame de 1’Estorade’s yoice speaking to some one, and 


334 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


her appearance in his room in a few minutes after with Mon- 
sieur Octave de Camps, showed that the trick had succeeded. 
By going forward as his visitor came in, he could see through 
the half-open door the spot where he had left the letter. Not 
only was it gone, but he could detect by a movement of his 
wife’s that she had tucked it into her morning-gown in the 
place where Louis XIII. dared not seek the secrets of Made- 
moiselle de Hautefort. 

‘«T have come to fetch you to go with me to Rastignac, as 
we agreed last evening,’’ said de Camps. 

**Quite right,’ said his friend, putting up his papers with 
a feverish haste that showed he was not in a normal frame of 
mind. 

‘Are you ill?’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, who knew her 
husband too well not to be struck by the singular absence of 
mind he betrayed ; and at the same time, looking him in the 
face, she observed a strange change in his countenance. 

‘You do not look quite yourself, indeed,’’ said Monsieur 
de Camps. ‘‘If you had rather, we will put off this visit.’’ 

‘‘ Not at all,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade; ‘‘ I have wor- 
ried myself over this work, and want pulling together. But 
what about René?’’ said he to his wife, whose inquisitive eye 
oppressed him. ‘‘ What was the matter that he screamed so 
loud ?”’ 

‘A mere trifle !’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, still studying 
his face. 

‘‘ Well, then, my dear fellow,’’ said her husband, assuming 
as indifferent a manner as he could command, ‘‘I have only 
to change my coat and I am yours.”’ 

When the countess was alone with Monsieur de Camps: 

**Does it not strike you,’’ said she, ‘‘that Monsieur de 
l’Estorade seems quite upset this morning?”’ 

‘‘As I said just now, he is not at all himself. But the ex- 
planation is perfectly reasonable; we disturbed him in the 
middle of his work. Office work is unhealthy ; I never in my 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 335 


life was so well as I have been since I took over the ironworks 
you so vehemently abuse.’’ 

‘*To be sure,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, with a deep 
sigh; ‘‘he needs exercise, an active life; there can be no 
doubt that he has some incipient liver disease.’’ 

‘¢Because he looks yellow? But he has looked so ever 
since I have known him.”’ 

‘*Qh! monsieur, I cannot be mistaken. There is some- 
thing seriously wrong, and you would do me the greatest 
service - 

‘¢ Madame, you have only to command me.”’ 

‘¢When Monsieur de |’Estorade comes back, we will speak 
of the little damage René has done to his finger. Tell me 
that trifling accidents, if neglected, may lead to serious mis- 
chief—that gangrene has been known to supervene and make 
amputation necessary. That will give me an excuse for send- 
ing for Dr. Bianchon.”’ 

‘Certainly,’’ said Monsieur de Camps. ‘‘I do not think 
medical advice very necessary; but if it will reassure you 
that 

At this moment Monsieur de 1’Estorade came back ; he had 
almost recovered his usual looks, but a strong smell of Eau de 
Mélisse des Carmes proved that he had had recourse to that 
cordial to revive him. Monsieur de Camps played his part 
as Job’s comforter to perfection ; as to the countess, she had 
no need to affect anxiety; her make-believe only concerned 
its object. 

‘¢My dear,’’ said she to her husband, after listening to 
the ironmaster’s medical discourse, ‘as you come home from 
the minister’s I wish you would call on Dr. Bianchon.’’ 

‘““What next!’’ said he, shrugging his shoulders, ‘call 
out such a busy man for what you yourself say is a mere 
triffe. 1" 

“If you will not go, I will send Lucas. Monsieur de 
Camps has quite upset me,’’ 








336 THE DEPUTY FOR AKCIS, 


‘If you choose to be ridiculous,’’ said her husband sharply, 
‘I know no means of preventing it; but one thing I may 
remind you, and that is, that if you send for a medical man 
when there is nothing the matter, under serious circumstances 
you may find that he will not come.’’ 

‘¢ And you will not go?”’ 

‘*T certainly will not,’’ said Monsieur de |’Estorade ; ‘‘ and 
if I had the honor of being master in my own house, I should 
forbid your sending any one in my stead.’’ 

‘‘My dear, you are the master, and since you refuse so 
emphatically we will say no more about it. I will try not to 
be too anxious.”’ 

‘Are you coming, de Camps?’’ said Monsieur de 1’Esto- 
rade, ‘‘ for at this rate I shall be sent off directly to order the 
child’s funeral.’’ 

‘But, my dear, are you ill,’’ said the countess, taking his 
hand, ‘‘ that you.can say such shocking things in cold blood ? 
It is not like your usual patience with my little motherly 
fussiness—nor like the politeness on which you pride your- 
self—to everybody, including your wife.’’ 

‘No, but the truth is,’’ said Monsieur de 1’ Estorade, irri- 
tated instead of soothed by this gentle and affectionate remon- 
strance, ‘‘ your motherly care is really becoming a monomania; 
you make life unbearable to everybody but your children. 
Deuce take it all! if they are our children, I am their father ; 
and if I am not adored as they are, at any rate I have the 
right to expect that my house may not be made uninhabit- 
able!’’ 

While he poured out this jeremiad, striding up and down 
the room, the countess was gesticulating desperately to Mon- 
sieur de Camps as if to ask him whether he did not discern a 
frightful sympton in this scene. 

To put an end to this painful contest, of which he had so 
involuntarily been the cause, he now said— 

‘‘ Are we going ?”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 337 


‘*Come along,’’ said Monsieur de |’Estorade, leading the 
way, without taking leave of his wife. 

‘Oh, I was forgetting a message for you,’’ added the iron- 
master, turning back. ‘‘ Madame de Camps will call for you 
at about two o’clock to choose some spring dress-stuffs ; she 
has settled that we shall all four go on afterward to the flower- 
show. When we leave Rastignac, l’Estorade and I will come 
back to fetch you, and if you are not in we will wait.’’ 

The countess scarcely heeded this programme; a flash of 
light had come to her. As soon as she was alone she took 
out Marie-Gaston’s letter, and finding it folded in the original 
creases— 

‘Not a doubt of it!’’ she exclaimed. ‘‘I remember 
replacing it in the envelope folded inside out. The unhappy 
man has read it.”’ 


Some hours later Madame de 1’Estorade and Madame de 
Camps were together in the drawing-room where only a few 
days since Sallenauve’s cause had been so warmly discussed 
and argued. 

‘“*Good heavens! what is the matter with you?’’ cried 
Madame de Camps, on finding her friend in tears as she 
finished writing a letter. 

The countess told her of all that had passed, and read her 
Marie-Gaston’s letter. At any other time the disaster it so 
plainly betrayed would have greatly grieved her friend; but 
the secondary misfortune which it had apparently occasioned 
absorbed all her thoughts— 

‘¢ And are you quite sure that your husband mastered the 
contents of that ill-starred letter?’’ she asked. 

‘¢How can I doubt it?’’ replied Madame de 1’Estorade. 
‘¢The paper cannot have turned itself inside out ; and beside, 
when I recall it all, I fancy that at the moment when I flew 
off to René I let something drop. As ill-luck would have it, 
I did not stop to look.”’ 

22 


338 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* But very often, when you rack your memory, you remem- 
ber things that did not happen.”’ 

‘But, my dear friend, the extraordinary change that so 
suddenly took place in Monsieur de 1’ Estorade could only be 
due to some overpowering shock. He looked like a man 
struck by lightning.”’ 

“Very well; but then if it is to be accounted for by a 
painful surprise, why do you insist on regarding it as the 
result of a liver complaint ?’’ 

‘‘Oh, that is no new thing to me,’’ said Madame de 1’Es- 
torade. ‘Only, when sick people make no complaints one 
is apt to forget. Look here, my dear,’’ she went on, pointing 
to a volume that lay open near her, ‘‘ just before your arrival 
I was reading in this medical dictionary that persons with 
liver disease become gloomy, restless, and irritable. And for 
some little time past I have noticed a great change in my 
husband’s temper; you yourself remarked on it the other 
day ; and this little scene, at which Monsieur de Camps was 
present—unprecedented, I assure you, in our married life— 
seems to me a terrible symptom.”’ 

“¢My dear, good child, you are like all people when they 
are bent on worrying themselves. In the first place, you 
study medical books, which is the most foolish thing in the 
world. I defy youto read the description of a disease without 
fancying that you can identify the symptoms in yourself or in 
some one for whom youcare. And beside, you are mixing up 
things that are quite different: the effects of a fright with 
those of a chronic complaint—they have nothing on earth in 
common.”’ 

‘*No, no, I am not confusing them; I know what I am 
talking about. Do not you know that in our poor human 
machinery, if any part is already affected, every strong emo- 
tion attacks that spot at once?”’ 

‘‘ At any rate,’’ said her friend, to put an end to the medi- 
cal question, ‘‘if that unhappy madman’s letter is likely to 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 339 


have some ulterior influence on your husband’s health, it 
threatens far more immediately to imperil your domestic 
peace. That must be considered first.”’ 

‘¢ There is no alternative,’’ said the countess. ‘‘ Monsieur 
de Sallenauve must never again set foot in the house.’’ 

‘There is a good deal to be said on that point, and it is 
just what I want to talk over with you. Do you know that 
yesterday I found you lacking in that moderation which has 
always been a prominent trait in your character ies 

‘¢When was that ?’’ asked Madame de 1’ Estorade. 

‘¢At the moment when you favored Monsieur de Sallenauve 
with such a burst of gratitude. When I advised you not to 
avoid him for fear of tempting him to seek your company, I 
certainly did not advise you to fling your kindness at his head, 
so as to turn it! As the wife of so zealous an adherent of the 
reigning dynasty, you ought to know better what is meant by 
Le juste milteu’’ (the happy medium). 

‘¢Oh, my dear, no witticisms at my husband’s expense! ”’ 

‘¢T am not talking of your husband, but of you, my dear. 
You amazed me so much last night, that I felt inclined to 
recall all I had said on my first impulse. I like my advice to 
be followed—but not too much followed.”’ 

‘* At any other moment I would ask you to tell me wherein 
I so far exceeded your instructions; but now that fate has 
settled the question, and Monsieur de Sallenauve must be 
simply cleared out of the way, of what use is it to discuss the 
exact limit-line of my behavior to him?”’ 

‘‘Well,’’ said Madame de Camps, ‘‘to tell you the whole 
truth, I was beginning to think the man a danger to you on 
quite another side.”’ 

*¢ Which is? ae 

‘‘Through Nais. That child, with her passion for her pre- 
server, really makes me very anxious.”’ 

‘¢Qh,’’ said the countess, with a melancholy smile, ‘is not 
that ascribing too much importance to a child’s nonsense ?”’ 








340 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢Nais is a child, no doubt, but who will be a woman 
sooner than most children. Did you not yourself write me 
that she had intuitions on some subjects quite beyond her 
years?” 

‘¢That is true. But in what you call her passion for Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve, beside its being quite natural, the dear 
child is so frank and effusive that the feeling has a genuinely 
childlike stamp.”’ 

‘¢Well—trust me, and do not trust to that; not even when 
this troublesome person is out of the way! Think, if when 
the time came to arrange for her marriage this liking had 
grown up with her—a pretty state of things!”’ 

‘“*Oh, between this and then—thank heaven! ”” said 
the countess incredulously. 

‘Between this and then,’’ replied Madame de Camps, 
‘Monsieur de Sallenauve may have achieved such success 
that his name is in everybody’s mouth; and with her lively 
imagination, Nais would be the first to be captivated by such 
brilliancy.”’ 

‘« But still, my dear, the difference of age 

‘¢ Monsieur de Sallenauve is thirty ; Nais is nearly thirteen. 
The difference is exactly the same as between your age and 
Monsieur de |’Estorade’s, and you married him.”’ 

‘Quite true; you may be right,’’ said Madame de 1’Esto- 
rade; ‘‘what I did as a matter of good sense, Naiis might 
insist on passionately. But be easy; I will so effectually 
shatter her idol P 

‘¢ That again, like the hatred you propose to act for your 
husband’s benefit, requires moderation. If you do not manage 
it gradually, you may fail of yourend. You must allow it to 
be supposed that circumstances have brought about a feeling 
which should seem quite spontaneous.”’ 

‘*But do you suppose,’’ cried Madame de 1’Estorade ex- 
citedly, ‘that I need act aversion for this man? Why, I hate 
him! He is our evil genius!”’ 





po) 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 341 


‘*Come, come, my dear, you must compose yourself! I 
really do not know you. You who used to be unruffled rea- 
son incarnate! ’’ 

Lucas at this moment came in to ask the countess if she 
could see a Monsieur Jacques Bricheteau. 

Madame de |’Estorade looked at her friend, saying— 

‘* The organist who was so helpful to Monsieur de Sallenauve 
at the time of his election. I do not know what he can want 
of me.”’ 

‘Never mind ; see him,”’ said her friend. ‘‘ Before open- 
ing hostilities, it is not amiss to know what is going on in the 
enemy’s camp.’’ 

‘¢ Show him in,”’ said the countess. 

Jacques Bricheteau came in. So sure had he been, on the 
other hand, of being among friends, that he had given no 
special attention to his toilet. A capacious chocolate-brown 
overcoat, whose cut it would have been vain to assign to any 
date of fashion; a checked vest, gray and green, buttoned 
to the throat; a black cravat, twisted to a rope, and worn 
without a collar, while it showed an inch of very doubt- 
fully clean shirt-front; yellow drab trousers, gray stockings, 
and tied shoes—this was the more than careless array in 
which the organist ventured into the presence of the elegant 
countess. 

Scarcely bidden to take a seat— 

‘«Madame,”’ said he, ‘*I have perhaps taken a liberty in 
presenting myself to you, unknown; but Monsieur Marie- 
Gaston spoke to me of your possibly wishing that I should 
give some lessons to mademoiselle your daughter. Itold him 
at first that there might be some little difficulty, as all my time 
was filled up; but the prefect of police has just set me at 
leisure by dismissing me from a post I held in his department, 
so I am happy to be able to place myself entirely at your 
service.’’ 

‘‘And has your dismissal, monsieur, been occasioned by the 


342 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCS. 


part you played in Monsieur de Sallenauve’s election? ’’ asked 
Madame de Camps. 

‘‘As no reason was assigned, it seems probable ; all the more 
so that, in the course of twenty years’ service, this discharge 
is the very first hitch that has ever arisen between me and my 
superiors,”’ 

“Tt cannot be denied,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, sharply 
enough, ‘‘ that you very seriously interfered with the intentions 
of the Government.”’ 

‘Yes, madame, and I accepted my dismissal as a disaster I 
was quite prepared for. After all, what was the loss of my 
small appointment in comparison with the election of Mon- 
sieur de Sallenauve ? ’’ 

‘I am really distressed,’’ the countess went on, ‘‘ to make 
no better return for the eagerness you are good enough to 
express ; but I may as well tell you that I have no fixed pur- 
pose as to choosing a master for my daughter, and in spite of 
the immense talent for which the world gives you credit, I 
should be afraid of such serious teaching for a little girl of 
thirteen.”’ 

‘* Quite the reverse, madame,”’ replied the organist. ‘‘ No- 
body credits me with talent. Monsieur de Sallenauve and 
Monsieur Marie-Gaston have heard me two or three times, but 
apart from that, I am a mere unknown teacher, and perhaps 
you are right—perhaps a very tiresome one. So, setting aside 
the question of lessons to mademoiselle your daughter, let me 
speak of the thing that has really brought me here—Monsieur 
de Sallenauve.’’ 

“‘Did Monsieur de Sallenauve charge you with any mes- 
sage to my husband?’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, with 
marked coldness. 

‘*No, madame, he has, I grieve to say, charged me with 
nothing. I went to call on him this morning, but he was 
absent. I went to Ville-d’Avray, where I was told that 1 
should find him, and learned that he had started on a journey 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 843 


with Monsieur Marie-Gaston. Then, thinking that you might 
possibly know the object of this journey, and how long he 
would be away——”’ 

‘*Nothing of the kind,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, in- 
terrupting him in a hard tone. 

‘‘T had a letter this morning,’’ Jacques Bricheteau went 
on, ‘‘from Arcis-sur-Aube. My aunt, Mother Marie des 
Anges, warns me, through Monsieur de Sallenauve’s notary, 
that a base conspiracy is being organized, and our friend’s 
absence complicates matters very seriously. I cannot under- 
stand what put it into his head to vanish without warning 
anybody who takes an interest 4 

‘‘That he should not have given you notice,’’ said Madame 
de l’Estorade, in the same tone, ‘‘ may possibly surprise you. 
But so far as my husband and I are concerned, there is noth- 
ing to be astonished at.”’ 

The significance of this uncivil distinction was too clear to 
be misunderstood. Jacques Bricheteau looked at the countess, 
and her eyes fell; but the whole expression of her face, set 
due North, confirmed the meaning which it was impossible to 
avoid finding in her words. 

After an awkward pause : 

‘‘I beg your pardon, madame,”’ said he, rising. ‘‘I did 
not know—I could not have supposed that you were so utterly 
indifferent to Monsieur de Sallenauve’s prospects and honor. 
But a minute ago, in the anteroom, when your servant was in 
doubt about announcing me, mademoiselle your daughter, on 
hearing that I was a friend of his, eagerly took my part; and 
I was so foolish as to conclude that she represented the general 
good feeling of the family.”’ 

After pointing this distinction, which was quite a match 
for Madame de 1’Estorade’s, thus paying her back in her own 
coin, Jacques Bricheteau bowed ceremoniously, and was about 
to leave. 

The two ladies exchanged a glance, as if to ask each other 





344 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


whether it would be well to let this man depart thus after 
shooting so keen a parting dart. 

In fact, a crushing contradiction was at this instant given 
to the countess’ assumption of indifference: Nais came fly- 
ing in. . 

‘*Mamma!’”’ she cried exultantly, ‘‘a letter from Monsieur 
de Sallenauve!”’ 

The countess blushed purple. 

‘¢ What manners are these, bouncing in like a mad thing?’”’ 
said she severely. ‘‘ And how do you know that the letter is 
from that gentleman ?”’ 

“‘Oh!’’ said Nais, turning the blade in the wound, “ when 
he wrote to you from Arcis, I got to know his writing.’’ 

‘You are asilly, inquisitive child,’’ said her mother, roused 
out of her usual indulgence by so many luckless speeches. 
‘Go to nurse.’’ 

Then to give herself some countenance— 

‘¢ Allow me, monsieur,’’ said she to Jacques Bricheteau, as 
she opened the letter so inappropriately delivered. 

‘* Nay, Madame la Comtesse,’’ replied the organist, ‘it is 
I who crave your permission to wait till you have read your 
letter. If by any chance Monsieur de Sallenauve should give 
you any account of his movements, you would perhaps have 
the kindness to give me the benefit of it ” 

Having looked through the letter— 

‘¢ Monsieur de Sallenauve,’’ said the countess, ‘‘ desires me 
to tell my husband that he is on his way to England—Han- 
well, in the county of Middlesex. He is to be addressed 
under cover to Doctor Ellis.’’ 

Jacques Bricheteau again bowed with due formality, and 
left the room, 

‘‘Nais has just treated you to a taste of her girl-in-love 
tricks,’’ said Madame de Camps. ‘‘ But you had well earned 
it. You had behaved to that poor man with a hardness that 
deserved a severer sally than his parting retort. He seems to 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 345 


have a ready wit of his own; and ‘// dy any chance’ Monsieur 
de Sallenauve had given you any information, was rather neat 
under the circumstances.’’ 

‘What is to be done?”’ said her friend; ‘‘the day began 
badly ; all the rest is to match.’’ 

‘© What about the letter?”’ 

“Tt is heart-breaking. Read it.”” 


‘¢ MADAME:—I succeeded in overtaking Lord Lewin a few 
leagues beyond Paris—he is the Englishman of whom I spoke 
to you, and Providence sent him to spare us a terrible catas- 
trophe. Possessed of a large fortune, he, like many of his 
countrymen, is liable to attacks of depression, and only his 
strength of mind has saved him from the worst results of the 
malady. His indifference to life, and the cool stoicism with 
which he speaks of voluntary death, won him at Florence, 
where they met, our unhappy friend’s confidence. Lord 
Lewin, who is interested in the study of vehement emotions, 
is intimately acquainted with Dr. Ellis, a physician famous 
for his treatment of the insane, and his lordship has often 
spent some weeks at the Hanwell Asylum for Lunatics in 
Middlesex. It is one of the best-managed asylums in Eng- 
land, and Dr. Ellis is at the head of it. 

‘‘Lord Lewin, on arriving at Ville-d’Avray, at once dis- 
cerned in Marie-Gaston the early symptoms of acute mania. 
Though not yet obvious to superficial observers, they did not 
escape Lord Lewin’s practiced eye. ‘ He picked and hoarded,’ 
said he, in speaking of our poor friend ; that is to say, as they 
walked about the park Marie-Gaston would pick up such rub- 
bish as straws, old bits of paper, and even rusty nails, putting 
them carefully in his pocket; and this, it would seem, is a 
symptom familiar to those who have studied the progress of 
mental disease. Then, by recurring to the discussions they 
had held at Florence, Lord Lewin had no difficulty in dis- 
covering his secret purpose of killing himself. Believing that 

M 


346 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


his wife visited him eVery evening, the poor fellow had deter- 
mined—on the very night of your little dance—to follow his 
adored Louise, as he said. So, you see, my fears were not 
exaggerated, but were the outcome of an instinct. 

‘*Lord Lewin, instead of opposing his resolution, affected 
to participate in it. 

«¢« But men like us,’ said he, ‘ ought not to die in any vulgar 
way, and there is a mode of death of which I had thought for 
myself, and which I propose that we should seek in common. 
In South America, not far from Paraguay, there is one of the 
most tremendous cataracts in the world, known as the Falls 
of Gayra. The spray that rises from the abyss is to be seen 
for many leagues, and reflects seven rainbows. A vast volume 
of water, spreading over a breadth of more than twelve thou- 
sand feet, is suddenly pent up in a narrow channel, and falls 
into a gulf below with a sound more deafening than a hundred 
thunderclaps at once. That is where I have always dreamed 
of dying.’ 

‘*« Let us be off,’ said Marie-Gaston. 

“‘«This very minute,’ said Lord Lewin. ‘Pack your 
things; we will sail from England, and be there in a few 
weeks.’ 

‘‘ And in this way, madame, the clever foreigner succeeded 
in putting our friend off from his dreadful purpose. As you 
may understand, he is taking him to England to place him 
in Dr. Ellis’ care, since he—Lord Lewin says—has not his 
match in Europe for treating the very sad case that is to be 
confided to him. 

‘‘ Informed by a letter left for me by Lord Lewin at Ville- 
d’Avray, I immediately set out in pursuit; and at Beauvais, 
whence I am writing, I came up with them in a hotel, where 
Lord Lewin had put up to enable the patient to benefit by 
sleep, which had happily come over him in the carriage, after 
several weeks of almost total insomnia. Lord Lewin looks 
upon this as a very favorable symptom, and he says that the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCS, 347 


malady thus treated, as it will be from the beginning, has the 
best possible chance of cure. 

‘I shall follow them closely to Hanwell, taking care not 
to be seen by Marie-Gaston, since, in Lord Lewin’s opinion, 
my presence might disturb the comparative tranquillity of 
mind that he has derived from the thought of the pompous 
end he is going to find. On reaching the asylum, I shall 
wait to hear Dr. Ellis’ verdict. 

‘¢'The session opens so soon that I fear I may not be back 
in time for the first sittings; but I shall write to the president 
of the Chamber, and if it should happen that any difficulty 
arise as to the leave of absence for which I must petition, I 
venture to rely on Monsieur de ]’Estorade’s kindness to certify 
the absolute necessity for it. At the same time, I must beg 
him to remember that I cannot authorize him on any con- 
sideration to reveal the nature of the business which has com- 
pelled me to go abroad. However, the mere statement of a 
fact by such a man as M. de 1’Estorade must be enough to 
secure its acceptance without any explanation. 

‘¢ Allow me, madame, to remain, etc.’’ 


As Madame de Camps finished reading, carriage wheels 
were heard. 

‘‘ There are our gentlemen back again,’’ said the countess. 
‘* Now, shall I show this letter to my husband ?”’ 

‘¢You cannot do otherwise. There would be too greata 
risk of what Nais might say. Beside, Monsieur de Sallenauve 
writes most respectfully ; there is nothing to encourage your 
husband’s notions.”’ 

As soon as Monsieur de 1’Estorade came in, his wife could 
see that he had recovered his usual looks, and she was about 
to congratulate him, when he spoke first. 

‘‘Who is the man of very shabby appearance,’’ asked Mon- 
sieur de l’Estorade, ‘‘ whom I found speaking to Nais on the 
stairs ?”’ 


348 THE DEPUTY F@R ARCIS. 


As his wife did not seem to know what he was talking 
about, he went on: ‘‘A man very much marked by the small- 
pox, with a greasy hat and a brown overcoat ?’’ 

‘“‘Oh!’’ said Madame de Camps to her friend, ‘‘ our 
visitor! Nais could not resist the opportunity of talking 
about her idol.’’ 

‘* But who is the man ?”’ 

‘Ts not his name Jacques Bricheteau?’’ said the countess, 
‘¢a friend of Monsieur de Sallenauve’s.’’ 

Seeing a cloud fall on her husband’s countenance, Madame 
de 1’Estorade hurriedly explained the two objects of the or- 
ganist’s visit, and she gave the member’s letter to Monsieur 
de |’Estorade. 

While he was reading it— 

‘‘He seems better, do you think?’’ the countess asked 
Monsieur de Camps. 

‘Oh, he is perfectly right again,’’ said the ironmaster. 
‘‘ There is not a sign of what we saw this morning. He had 
worried himself over his work ; exercise has done him good ; 
and yet it is to be observed that he had an unpleasant shock 
just now at the minister’s.”’ 

‘‘Why, what happened ?’’ asked Madame de 1’Estorade. 

‘* Your friend Monsieur de Sallenauve’s business seems to 
be in a bad way.”’ 

‘¢Thank you for nothing !’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, 
returning the letter to his wife. ‘I shall certainly not do 
the thing he asks me.’’ 

‘‘Then have you heard anything against him?”’ said she, 
trying to appear perfectly indifferent as she asked the question. 

“‘Yes; Rastignac told me that he had letters from Arcis ; 
some very awkward discoveries have been made there.”’ 

‘Well, what did I tell you?’’ cried Madame de |’ Estorade. 

“¢ What did you tell me?”’ 

‘*To be sure. Did I not give youa hint some time ago 
that Monsieur de Sallenauve was a man to be let drop? 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 349 


Those were the very words I used, as I happen to just remem- 
bere: 

‘But was it I who brought him here? ”’ 

‘© You can hardly say that it was I. Only just now, before 
knowing anything of the distressing facts you have just 
learned, 1 was speaking to Madame de Camps of another 
reason which should make us anxious to put an end to the 
acquaintance.”’ 

‘* Very true,’’ said Madame de Camps. ‘‘ Your wife, but 
a minute ago, was talking of the sort of frenzy that possesses 
Nais with regard to her preserver, and she foresaw great diffi- 
culties in the future.”’ 

“It is an unsatisfactory connection in every way,’’ said 
Monsieur de 1’Estorade. 

‘Tt seems to me,’’ said Monsieur de Camps, who was not 
behind the scenes, ‘‘ that you are ratherin a hurry. Some 
compromising discoveries are said to have been made with 
reference to Monsieur de Sallenauve, but what is the value of 
these discoveries? Wait before you hang him, at least till he 
has been tried ?”’ 

‘*My husband can do what he thinks proper,’’ said the 


countess. ‘‘ For my part, I do not hesitate to throw him over 
at once. My friends, like Czesar’s wife, must be above sus- 
picion.”’ 


‘*The awkward thing,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, ‘is 
that we are under such an annoying obligation to him——”’ 

*« But, really,’’ exclaimed Madame de 1’Estorade, ‘if a 
convict had saved my life, should I be obliged to receive him 
in my drawing-room ?”’ 

‘Indeed, my dear, you are going too far,’’ said Madame 
de Camps. 

‘¢ Well, well,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, ‘‘ there is no 
occasion to raise a scandal; things must be allowed to take 
their course. The dear man is abroad now; who knows if 
he will ever come back ?”’ 


350 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘« What, he has fled at a mere rumor?”’ said Monsieur de 
Camps. 

‘Not precisely on that account,’’ replied the count. ‘He 
had a pretext—but once out of France——’’ 

‘¢ As to that conclusion,’’ said Madame de 1’Estorade, ‘I 
do not fora moment believe in it. His pretext is a good 
reason, and as soon as he hears from his friend the organist he 
will hurry back, So, my dear, you must take your courage in 
both hands and cut the intimacy short at a blow if you do 
not intend it to continue.’’ 

‘‘And that is really your meaning?’’ said Monsieur de 
l’Estorade, looking keenly at his wife. 

“‘I? I would write him without any sort of ceremony, 
and tell him that he will oblige us by calling here no more. 
At the same time, as it is a little difficult to write such a 
letter, we will concoct it together if you like.” 

“¢ We will see,’’ said her husband, beaming at the sugges- 
tion; ‘‘the house is not falling yet. The most pressing 
matter at the moment is the flower-show we are to go to 
together. It closes, I think, at four o’clock, and we have but 
an hour before us.”’ 

Madame de 1’Estorade, who had dressed before Madame 
de Camps’ arrival, rang for the maid to bring her bonnet and 
shawl. 

As she was putting them on in front of a glass— 

‘‘Then you really love me, Renée?’’ said her husband in 
her ear. 

‘‘Can you be so silly as to ask?’’ replied she, giving him 
her most affectionate look. 

‘‘Well, I have a confession to make to you—I read the 
letter Philippe brought.”’ 

‘*Then I am no longer surprised at the change that came 
over you. I too must tell you something. When I proposed 
that we should concoct Monsieur de Sallenauve’s dismissal 
between us, I had already written it—directly after you went 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 351 


out ; and you can take it out of my blotting-book and post it 
if you think it will do.’ 

Quite beside himself with joy at finding that his hypo- 
thetical successor had been so immediately sacrificed, Mon- 
sieur de l’Estorade threw his arms round his wife and kissed 
her effusively. 

“¢Well done!’’ cried Monsieur de Camps. ‘‘ This is better 
than this morning !”’ 

‘‘ This morning I was a fool,’’ said the count, as he turned 
over the blotting-book to find the letter, which he might have 
taken his wife’s word for. 

‘¢Say no more,’’ said Madame de Camps in an undertone 
to her husband. ‘‘I will explain all this pother to you pres- 
ently.’”’ 

Younger again by ten years, the count offered his arm to 
Madame de Camps, while his wife took that of the provincial 
ironmaster’s. 

‘“‘And Nais?’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, seeing the 
little girl looking forlorn as they went. ‘‘Is not she coming 
tuo!”’ 

‘*No,’’ said her mother; ‘‘I am not pleased with her.”’ 

‘¢Pooh!’’ said the father, ‘‘I proclaim an amnesty. Run 
and put your bonnet on,’’ he added to the child. 

Nais looked at her mother for the ratification which she 
thought necessary under the hierarchy of power as it existed 
in the |’Estorade household. 

“<Go,’’ said the countess, ‘‘ since your father wishes it.’’ 

While they waited for the little girl— 

‘©To whom are you writing, Lucas?’’ asked the count of 
the manservant, who had begun a letter on the table by which 
he stood. 

‘© To my son,”’ said Lucas, ‘‘ who is very anxious to get his 
sergeant’s stripes. Iam telling him that you promised mea 
note to his colonel, Monsieur le Comte.”’ 

‘‘ Perfectly true, on my honor ; and I had quite forgotten it. 


852 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Remind me to-morrow morning ; I will write it the first thing 
when I get up.’’ 

‘* You are very good, sir 

‘‘Here,’’ said Monsieur de 1’Estorade, putting his fingers 
in his vest pocket and taking out three gold-pieces, ‘‘ send 
these to the corporal from me, and tell him to get his men to 
drink to his stripes.”’ 

Lucas was amazed; he had never known his master so 
genial and liberal. 

When Nais was ready, Madame de 1’Estorade, proud of 
having had the courage to leave her in disgrace for half an 
hour, hugged her as if she had not seen her for two years; 
then they all set out for the Luxembourg, where the Horticul- 
tural Society at that time held its shows. 





Toward the end of the interview which Monsieur Octave de 
Camps, under the auspices of Monsieur de |’Estorade, had at 
last been able to get with Rastignac, the minister’s usher had 
come in to give him the cards of Monsieur le Procureur- 
Général Vinet and Monsieur Maxime de Trailles. 

“‘Very well,’’ said the minister. ‘Tell the gentlemen I 
will see them in a few minutes.”’ 

Soon after, the ironmaster and Monsieur de 1’Estorade rose 
to leave; and it was then that Rastignac had briefly told the 
count of the danger looming on the parliamentary horizon 
of his friend Sallenauve. At the word ‘ friend,’’ Monsieur 
de l’Estorade had protested. 

“‘T do not know, my dear minister,’’ said he, ‘‘ why you 
persist in giving that name to a man who is really no more 
than an acquaintance, I might say a provisional acquaintance, 
if the reports you have mentioned should prove to have any 
foundation.”’ 

‘‘T am delighted to hear you say so,’’ replied Rastignac. 
‘For in the thick of the hostilities which seem likely to arise 
between that gentleman and our side, I confess that the warm 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 353 


feeling I imagined you to have toward him would somewhat 
have fettered me.’’ 

‘*T am grateful for your consideration,’’ replied the count ; 
‘‘but pray understand that I give you a free hand. It isa 
matter entirely at your discretion to treat Monsieur de Salle- 
nauve as a political foe, without any fear that the blows you 
deal him will at all hurt me.’’ 

Thereupon they left, and Messieurs Vinet and de Trailles 
had been shown in. 

Vinet, the attorney-general, and father of Olivier Vinet, 
whom the reader already knows, was one of the warmest 
champions and most welcome advisers of the existing Govern- 
ment. Designate as the minister of justice at the next shuf- 
fling of the Cabinet, he was behind the scenes of every am- 
biguous situation; and in every secret job nothing was con- 
cocted without his codperation, in the plot at least, if not in 
the doing. 

The electoral affairs of Arcis had a twofold claim on his in- 
terference. First, because his son held a position among the 
legal magnates of the town; secondly, because as connected 
through his wife with the Chargebceufs of la Brie, the Cinq- 
Cygnes of Champagne being a younger branch of that family, 
this aristocratic alliance made him think it a point of honor 
to assert his importance in both districts, and never to miss a 
chance of interfering in their affairs. 

So, that morning, when Monsieur de Trailles had called 
on the minister, armed with a letter from Madame Beau- 
_ visage, full of compromising scandal concerning the new 
deputy for Arcis— 

‘‘Find Vinet, as coming from me,”’’ said Rastignac, with- 
out listening to any explanations, ‘‘ and try to bring him here 
as soon as possible.’’ 

At Maxime’s bidding—who offered to fetch him in his 
carriage—Vinet was quite ready to go to Rastignac; and now 
that he has made his way to the minister’s private room, we 

23 


354 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


shall be better informed as to the danger hanging over Salle- 
nauve’s head, of which Jacques Bricheteau and Monsieur de 
l’Estorade have given us but a slight idea. 

‘¢Then you mean, my dear friends,’’ said the minister as 
soon as they had settled to their talk, ‘‘ that we may get some 
hold on this political purist! I met him yesterday at l’Es- 
torade’s, and he struck me as most undauntedly hostile.”’ 

Maxime, whose presence was in no sense official, knew 
better than to answer this remark. Vinet, on the contrary, 
almost insolently conscious of his political importance, public 
prosecutor as he was, had too much of the advocate in his 
composition to miss a chance of speaking. 

‘¢When, only this morning, monsieur’’—and he bowed to 
Maxime—‘“‘ did me the honor to communicate to me a letter 
he had received from Madame Beauvisage, I had just had one 
from my son, in which he gave me, with slight variations, 
the same information. I agree with him that the matter 
looks ugly for our adversary—but it will need nice manage- 
ment.”’ 

“‘T really hardly know what the matter is,”’ said the min- 
ister. ‘*As I particularly wished for your opinion on the 
case, my dear Vinet, I begged Monsieur de Trailles to post- 
pone the details till we were all three together.”’ 

This was authorizing Maxime to proceed with the narrative, 
but Vinet again seized the opportunity for hearing his own 
voice. 

‘¢ This,’’ said he, ‘is what my son Olivier writes to me, 
confirming Madame Beauvisage’s letter—she, I may say in- 
cidentally, would have made a famous deputy to parliament, 
my dear sir. Ona market-day not long since, Pigoult the 
notary, who has the management of all the new deputy’s 
business matters, received a visit, it would seem, from a peas- 
ant-woman from Romilly, a large village not far from Arcis. 
To hear the Marquis de Sallenauve, who has so suddenly 
reappeared, you would think that he was the only existing 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 355 


scion of the Sallenauve family; but this did not prevent this 
woman from displaying some papers in due form, proving that 
she too is a living Sallenauve, in the direct line, and related 
nearly enough to claim her part in any heritable property.’’ 

‘*Well,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘but did she know no more of 
the marquis’ existence than he knew of hers?’’ 

‘*That did not plainly appear from her statements,’’ said 
Vinet ; ‘* but that very confusion seems to me most convinc- 
ing, for, as you know, between relations in such different 
positions great difficulties are apt to arise.”’ 

‘*Kindly proceed with the story,’’ said the minister. 
‘* Before drawing conclusions, we must hear the facts— 
though, as you know by experience, that is not the invariable 
practice in parliament.”’ 

“Not always to the dissatisfaction of the ministers,’’ said 
Maxime, laughing. 

‘* Monsieur is right,’’ said Vinet; ‘‘all hail to a successful 
muddler! But to return to our peasant-woman, who, in con- 
sequence of the ruin of the Sallenauve family, has fallen into 
great poverty and a station far beneath her birth; she first 
appeared asa petitioner for money, and it seems probable 
that prompt and liberal generosity would have kept her quiet. 
But it is also likely that she was but ill-pleased by Maitre 
Achille Pigoult’s reception of her demands; for on leaving 
his office she went to the market-square, and seconded by a 
neighbor, a lawyer from the village, who had come with her, 
she disburdened herself of various statements relating to my 
highly esteemed fellow-member which were not very flattering 
to his character; declaring that the Marquis de Sallenauve 
was not his father; and again, that there was no Marquis de 
Sallenauve in existence. And at any rate, she concluded, 
this newly made Sallenauve was a heartless wretch who would 
have nothing to say to his relations. But, she added, she 
could make him disgorge, and, with the help of the clever 
man who had come with her to support her by his advice, 


356 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Monsieur le Député might be sure that they ‘ would make him 
dance to another tune.’ ’’ 

‘“‘T have not the slightest objection,’’ said Rastignac. 
“«But the woman has, I suppose, some proof in support of her 
statements ?’’ 

‘¢That is the weak point of the matter,’’ replied Vinet. 
‘*But let me goon. At Arcis, my dear sir, the Government 
has a remarkably devoted and intelligent servant in the head 
of the police. Moving about among the people, which is his 
practice on market-days, he picked up some of the woman’s 
vicious remarks, and going off at once to the mayor’s house, 
he asked to see, not the mayor himself, but Madame Beau- 
visage, to whom he told what was going on.’’ 

‘“‘Then is the candidate whom you had choosen for a 
crowning treat a perfect idiot ?’’ Rastignac asked Maxime. 

‘¢The very man you wanted,’’ replied Monsieur de Trailles, 
‘¢imbecile to a degree! There is nothing I would not do to 
reverse this vexatious defeat.’’ 

‘‘Madame Beauvisage,’’ Vinet went on, ‘‘at once thought 
she would like to talk to this woman of the ready tongue ; and 
to get hold of her, it was not a bad idea to desire Groslier, 
the police sergeant, to go and fetch her with a sternly threat- 
ening air, as if the authorities disapproved of her levity in 
using such language with regard to a member of the National 
Chamber, and to bring her forthwith to the mayor’s house.”’ 

‘‘And it was Madame Beauvisage, you say, who suggested 
this method of procedure ?’’ said Rastignac. 

‘“Oh, yes, she is a very capable woman,”’ said Maxime. 

‘¢Driven hard,’’ continued the speaker, ‘‘by Madame the 
Mayoress, who took care to secure her husband’s presence at 
the cross-examination, the woman proved to be anything 
rather than coherent. How she had ascertained that the 
deputy could not be the marquis’ son, and her confident 
assertion, on the other hand, that the marquis did not even 
exist, were not by any means conclusively proved. Hearsay, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 357 


vague reports, inferences drawn by her village attorney were 
the best of the evidence she could bring.”’ 

‘‘ Well, then,’’ said Rastignac, ‘‘what is the upshot of it 
alin. 

‘¢ Nil from the legal point of view,’’ replied Vinet. ‘‘ For 
even if the woman could prove that it is a mere whim on the 
part of the Marquis de Sallenauve to recognize the man Dor- 
lange as his son, she would have no ground for an action in 
disproof. According to Section 339 of the Civil Code, a 
positive and congenital right alone can give grounds for dis- 
puting the recognition of a natural child; in other words, 
there must be a direct claim on the property in which the 
child whose birth is disputed is enabled to claim a share.’’ 

‘¢ Your balloon collapsed!’’ observed the minister. 

‘¢ Whereas, on the other hand, if the good woman chooses 
to dispute the existence of the Marquis de Sallenauve, she 
would disinherit herself, since she certainly has no claim on 
the estate of a man who would then be no relation of hers; 
beside, it is the duty of the crown, and not her part at all, to 
prosecute for the assumption of a false identity ; the utmost 
she could do would be to bring the charge.”’ 

‘Whence you conclude ?’’ said Rastignac, with the sharp 
brevity which warns a too diffuse talker to abridge his story. 

‘Whence I conclude, legally speaking, that this Romilly 
peasant, by taking up either charge as the basis for an action, 
would find it a bad speculation, since in one case she must 
obviously lose, and in the other—which, in fact, she cannot 
; even bring—she would get nothing out of it. But, politically 
speaking, it is quite another story.’’ 

‘* Let us see the political side then,’’ said Rastignac; ‘for, 
so far, I can make nothing of it.’’ 

‘In the first place,’’ replied the lawyer, ‘‘ you will agree 
with me that it is always possible to fight a bad case?’’ 

“¢ Certainly.”’ 

** And then, I do not suppose that you would care whether 


358 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


this woman fights an action which would only end in her hav- 
ing to pay a lawyer’s bill.”’ 

‘*No; I confess it is a matter to me of perfect indifference.’’ 

*¢ And if you had cared, I should, all the same, have advised 
you to let matters take their course; for the Beauvisages have 
undertaken all the costs, including a visit to Paris for this 
woman and her legal adviser.’’ 

‘‘ Well, well—the action brought, what comes of it ?’’ said 
Rastignac, anxious to end. 

‘‘What comes of it?’’ cried the lawyer, warming to the 
subject. ‘‘ Why, everything you can manage to make of it; 
if, before it is argued, you can work up comments in the 
papers and insinuations from your friends. What comes of 
it? Why, the utmost discredit for our antagonist, if he is 
suspected of having assumed a name to which he has no right. 
What comes of it? Why, an opportunity for a fulminating 
speech in the Chamber——”’ 

‘¢ Which you, no doubt, will undertake?’’ asked Rastignac. 

‘©Oh, Ido not know. The case must be thoroughly stud- 
ied ; I must see what turn it is likely to take.’’ 

‘¢ Then for the moment,’’ the minister observed, ‘ it is all 
reduced to an application, hit or miss, of Basile’s famous 
theory of calumny—that it is always well to keep it stirred, 
and that something will stick.”’ 

‘“‘Calumny? Calumny?’’ replied Vinet. ‘‘ That we shall 
see ; it may be no more than honest evil-speaking. Monsieur 
de Trailles, here, knows what went on much better than we 
do. He will tell you that all through the district the father’s 
disappearance as soon as he had legally acknowledged his son 
had the very worst effect; that everybody retained a vague 
impression of mysterious complications to favor the election 
of this man about whom we are talking. 

‘*You have no idea, my dear fellow, what can be got out 
of a lawsuit cleverly kept simmering, and in my long and 
busy career as a pleader I have seen miracles worked by such 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 359 


means. A parliamentary struggle is quite another matter. 
There proof is not needed ; you may kill your man with noth- 
ing but hypotheses and asseverations if you stick to them de- 
fiantly enough.”’ 

‘Well, to sum up,’’ said Rastignac, speaking as a man of 
method, “‘ how do you recommend that the affair should be 
managed ?”’ 

‘‘In the first place,’’ replied the lawyer, ‘‘ I should allow 
the Beauvisages—since they have a fancy for it—to pay all 
the expenses of moving the peasant-woman and her friend, 
and subsequently the costs of the action.”’ 

‘‘Do I make any objection ?’’ said the minister. ‘‘ Have 
I either the right or the means ?”’ 

‘‘The case,’’ Vinet went on, ‘‘ must be put into the hands 
of a wily and clever lawyer. Desroches, for instance, Mon- 
sieur de Trailles’ lawyer. He will know how to fill out the 
body of a case which, as you justly observe, is very thin.”’ 

‘*T certainly should not say to Monsieur de Trailles, ‘I 
forbid you to allow anybody you please to secure the services 
of your solicitor,’ ’’ said Rastignac. 

‘Then we want an advocate who can talk with an air of 
‘The Family’ as a sacred and precious thing; who will wax 
indignant at the surreptitious intrigues by which a man may 
scheme to insinuate himself within its holy pale.’’ 

‘¢ Desroches can find your man; and again, the Govern- 
ment is not likely to hinder a pleader from talking or from 
being transported with indignation !’’ 

‘¢ But, Monsieur le Ministre,’” Maxime put in, startled out 
of his attitude of passive attention by Rastignac’s indifference, — 
‘*is non-interference all the support to be hoped for from the 
Government in this struggle ?”’ 

‘T hope you did not think that we should take up the action 
on our own account ?”’ 

‘No, of course not; but we had a right to imagine that 
you would take some interest in it.’’ 


860 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* How—in what way?’’ 

‘How can I tell? As Monsieur Vinet was saying just 
now, by tuck of drum in the subsidized newspapers—by get- 
ting your supporters to spread the gossip—by using the influ- 
ence which men in power always have over the bench.”’ 

‘¢ Thank you for nothing,’’ said the minister. ‘* When you 
want to secure the Government as an accomplice, my dear 
Maxime, you must have a rather more solidly constructed 
scheme to show. Your air of business this morning made me 
think you really had a strong hand, and I have troubled our 
excellent friend the public prosecutor, who knows how high 
a value I set on his learning and advice; but really your plot 
strikes me as too transparent, and the meshes so thin that I 
can see through them an inevitable defeat. If I were a bache- 
lor and wanted to marry Mademoiselle Beauvisage, I daresay 
I might be bolder, so I leave it to you to carry on the action 
in any way you please. I will not say that Government will 
not watch your progress with its best wishes; but it certainly 
will not tread the path with you.’’ 

“Well, well,’’ said Vinet, hindering Maxime’s reply, which 
would, no doubt, have been a bitter one, ‘‘ but supposing we 
take the matter into court; suppose that the peasant-woman, 
prompted by the Beauvisages, should denounce the man who 
was identified before the notary as being a spurious Sallenauve ; 
then the deputy is guilty of conspiracy, and for that we have 
him before the superior court.’ 

‘‘But, again, where are your proofs?’’ asked Rastignac. 
‘* Have you a shadow of evidence? ”’ : 

‘* You admitted just now,’’ observed Maxime, ‘“‘ that a bad 
case may be fought out.’’ 

“‘A civil action, yes; a criminal charge is quite another 
matter. And this would break down, for it means disputing 
the validity of an act drawn up by a public official, and with- 
out a particle of proof. A pretty piece of work! The case 
would be simply dismissed before it came to be argued in 


bel 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 361 


court. If we wanted to perch our enemy on a pedestal as 
high as the column of July, we could not go about it more 
effectually.’’ 

‘So that in your opinion there is nothing to be done ?”’ 
asked Maxime. 

‘* By us—nothing. But you, my dear Maxime, who have 
no official position, and can at a pinch use your pistol in sup- 
port of the attack on Monsieur de Sallenauve’s character— 
there is nothing to hinder you from trying your luck in the 
contest.”’ 

‘* Yes,’’ said Maxime petulantly, ‘‘I am a sort of ‘ condot- 
Heres es 

‘* Not at all; you are a man with an instinctive conviction 
of certain facts that cannot be legally proven, and you would 
not be afraid to stand at the judgment seat of God.”’ 

Monsieur de Trailles rose, considerably annoyed. Vinet 
also rose, and giving Rastignac his hand as he took leave— 

‘I cannot deny,”’ said he, ‘‘that your conduct is dictated 
by great prudence ; and I will not say but that in your place I 
should do the same.’’ 

‘*No ill-feeling, at any rate, Maxime,’’ said the minister, 
and Maxime bowed with icy dignity. 

When the two conspirators were in the outer room alone— 

‘Do you understand what this prudery means?’’ asked 
Maxime. 

‘« Perfectly,’’ said Vinet, ‘‘and for a clever man you seem 
to me easily taken in.”’ 

‘*No doubt—making you lose your time, beside losing my 
own to have the pleasure of hearing a man lay himself out for 
the reward of virtue as 

“It is not that. I think you very guileless to believe in 
the refusal of support that has vexed you so much.”’ 

““What? You think iss 

‘‘T think that the business is a toss-up. If the plan suc- 
ceeds, the Government, sitting with its arms folded, will get 








362 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


all the benefit; if, on the contrary, success is not for us, it 
would, as soon as not, keep out of the risk of defeat. But, 
take my word for it, I know Rastignac ; looking quite impas- 
sive, and without compromising himself at all, he will perhaps 
serve us better than by outspoken connivance. Just reflect: 
Did he say a single word against the moral side of the attack ? 
Did he not repeat again and again—‘I make no objection? I 
have no right to hinder you.’ And what fault had he to find 
with the snake’s venom? That its action was not deadly 
enough! The fact is, my dear sir, that there will be a sharp 
tug of war, and it will take all Desroches’ skill to put a good 
face on the business.”’ 

‘‘Then you think I had better see him?”’ 

‘“‘DoI think so? Why, this moment, when we part.’”’ 

“*Do not you think it would be well that he should go and 
talk matters over with you?’”’ 

‘*No, no, no!’’ said Vinet. ‘‘I may be the man to do 
the talking in the Chamber. Desroches might be seen at my 
house, and I must seem immaculate.’’ 

Thereupon he bowed to Maxime, and left him in some 
haste, excusing himself by having to go to the Chamber and 
hear what was going on. 

“And if I,’’ said Maxime, running after him as he left, ‘‘if 
I should need your advice ?”’ 

‘‘T am leaving Paris this evening to look after my court in 
the country before the session opens.’’ 

‘‘And the question in the Chamber that you may be called 
upon to ask ?”’ 

‘¢Oh, if it is not I, it will be some one else. I shall return 
as soon as possible; but you will understand that I must set 
my shop in order before I come away for at least five or six 
months.’’ 

‘‘Then don voyage, monsieur,’’ said Maxime sarcastically, 
and parting from him at last. 

Rastignac’s behavior especially nettled him when he looked 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 863 


back on their first meeting, just twenty years ago, at Madame 
de Restaud’s. He, then already a formed man holding the 
sceptre of fashion, and Rastignac a poor student, not know- 
ing how to enter or leave a room, and dismissed from the 
door of that handsome house when he called after his first 
visit, in the course of which he had contrived to commit two 
or three incongruous blunders! And now Rastignac was a 
peer of France and in office; while he, Maxime, no more 
than his tool, was obliged to listen with grounded arms when 
he was told that his man-traps were too artless, and that if he 
fancied them, he must work them alone. 

But this prostration was but a lightning flash. 

‘‘Well, then!’’ he said to himself. ‘‘ Yes, I will try the 
game single-handed. My instinct assures me that there is 
something in it. 

‘*What next! A Dorlange, a nobody, is to keep me in 
check, me, Comte Maxime de Trailles, and make my defeat a 
stepping-stone? There are too many dark places in that 
rogue’s past life for it not to be possible sooner or later to 
open one to the light of day my 

‘*To the lawyer’s,”’ said he to the coachman as he opened 
his carriage-door. 

And when he was comfortably seated on the cushions— 

‘‘After all, if I cannot succeed in overthrowing this upstart, 
I will put myself in the way of his insulting me; I shall have 
the choice of weapons, and will fire first. I will do better 
than the Duc de Rhétoré, my insolent friend! I will kill 
you, never fear !’’ 





Desroches was at home, and Monsieur de Trailles was at 
once shown in to his private room. 

In 1839 Desroches was an honest attorney in good prac- 
tice; that is to say, he conducted his clients’ business with 
zeal and skill; he never would countenance any underhand 
proceedings, much less would he have lent them a hand. As 


364 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


to the fine bloom of delicate honesty which existed in Der- 
ville and some other men of that stamp, beside the impossi- 
bility of preserving it from rubbing off in the world of busi- 
ness—in which, as Monsieur de Talleyrand said: ‘‘ Business 
means other people’s money’’—it can never be the second 
development of any life. The loss of that down of the soul, 
like that of anything virginal, is irreparable; so Desroches 
had made no attempt to restore it. He would have nothing 
to say to what was ignoble or dishonest ; but the above-board 
tricks allowed by the Code of Procedure, the recognized sur- 
prises and villainies to steal a march on an adversary, he was 
ready to allow. 

Then, Desroches was an amusing fellow; he liked good 
living ; and, like all men who are incessantly absorbed by the 
imperious demands of hard thinking, he felt a craving for 
highly spiced enjoyments snatched in haste, and strong to the 
palate. So, while he had by degrees cleansed his ways as a 
lawyer, he was still the favorite attorney of men of letters, 
artists, and actresses, of popular courtesans and dandy bohe- 
mians such as Maxime; because he was content to live their 
life, all these people attracted him, and all relished his society. 
Their slang and wit, their rather lax moral views, their some- 
what picaresgue adventures, their expedients, their brave and 
honorable toil—in short, all their greatness and all their 
misery were perfectly understood by him, and like an ever- 
indulgent providence, he gave them advice and help when- 
ever they asked for them. 

But to the end that his serious and paying clients should 
not discover what might be somewhat compromising in his 
intimacy with these clients of his heart, he had days when he 
was the husband and father—more especially Sundays. Rarely 
did he fail to be seen in his quiet little carriage, in the Bois 
de Boulogne, his wife by his side—the largeness of her fortune 
stamped in her ugliness. On the opposite seat were the three 
children in a group, all unfortunately like their mother. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 365 


So it was to this relatively honest lawyer that Monsieur de 
Trailles had come for advice, as he never failed to do in 
every more or less tight place in his career. Desroches, as 
had long been his habit, listened without interrupting him to 
the long statement of the case as it was unfolded to him, in- 
cluding the scene that had just taken place at Rastignac’s. 
As Maxime had no secrets from this confessor, he gave all his 
reasons for owing Sallenauve an ill-turn, and represented him, 
with perfect conviction, as having stolen the name under 
which he would sit in the Chamber. His hatred appeared to 
him in the light of positive evidence of a felony that was 
hardly probable or possible. In the bottom of his heart 
Desroches had no wish to undertake a case in which he at 
once foresaw not the smallest chance of success ; and his lax 
honesty was shown in his talking to his client as if it were a 
quite ordinary legal matter, and in not telling him point-blank 
his opinion of an action which was simply an intrigue. 

‘*To begin with, my dear sir,’’ said the attorney, ‘‘a civil 
action is not to be thought of: if your Romilly peasant had 
her pockets full of proofs, her application would be refused 
because, so far, she can have no direct interest in disputing 
the affiliation of the opposing party.”’ 

‘* Yes, that is what Vinet said just now.’’ 

‘As to a criminal prosecution, that, of course, you might 
bring about by lodging an information of false personation.”’ 

‘¢Vinet seemed in favor of that course,’’ said Maxime. 

‘* Well, but there are many objections to this method of 
procedure. In the first place, merely to get the information 
heard, you must have something resembling proof; next, if 
the information is lodged and the Crown decides to prosecute, 
to get a verdict there must be far stronger evidence of the 
felony ; and if, after all, the crime were proved against the 
self-styled Marquis de Sallenauve, how are you to show that 
his self-styled son is in the conspiracy, since he may have been 
deceived by an impostor.’’ 


366 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* But what motive could that impostor have,’’ said Maxime, 
‘*for giving this Dorlange all the advantages that accrue to 
him from being recognized as the Marquis de Sallenauve’s 
son ?”’ 

‘‘Oh, my dear fellow,’’ replied Desroches, ‘‘when you 
come to State questions, any eccentricity is possible. No sort 
of trials or actions has furnished so many romances to the 
compilers of causes célebrés or to novelists. But there is 
another point: the assumption of a false identity is not in 
itself a crime in the eye of the law.’’ 

‘* How is that?’’ cried Maxime. ‘‘ Impossible! ”’ 

‘‘Look here, my lord,’’ said Desroches, taking down the 
Five Codes, ‘‘ have the kindness to read Section 145 of the 
Penal Code—the only one which seems to lend an opening to 
the action you propose to bring, and see whether the mis- 
demeanor we are discussing is contemplated.”’ 

Maxime read aloud Section 145, as follows: 

** Any functionary or public officer who shall have com- 
mitted forgery in the exercise of his functions—either by 
forged signatures, or by defacing and altering deeds, docu- 
ments, or signatures—or by assuming a false identity——’’ 

‘«Then, you see,’’ said Maxime, ‘‘ false identity ——’”’ 

‘‘ Read to the end,”’ said Desroches. 

“Or by altering or adding to a register or any other public 
document, after it has been legally attested and sealed, is 
liable to penal servitude for life.’’ 

Monsieur de Trailles rolled the words unctuously on his 
tongue as a foretaste of the fate in store for Monsieur de Salle- 
nauve. 

‘¢ My dear count,’’ said Desroches, ‘‘ you read as the parties 
to a suit always do; they never study a point of law but from 
their own side of the,case. You fail to observe that, in this 
section, mention is made only of ‘functionaries and public 
officers ;’ it has no bearing on the false identity of any other 
class of persons.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 367 


Maxime re-read the paragraph, and saw that Desroches was 
right. 

**Still,’’ he remarked, ‘‘ there must be something elsewhere 
to that effect ?”’ 

‘Nothing of the kind; take my word for it as a lawyer; 
the Code is absolutely silent on that point.’’ 

‘¢ Then the crime we should inform against has the privilege 
of impunity?”’ 

‘* That is to say,’’ replied Desroches, ‘‘ that its punishment 
is doubtful at best. A judge sometimes by induction extends 
the letter of the law ”” He paused to turn over a volume 
of leading cases. 

‘‘ Here, you see, reported in Carnot’s ‘Commentaries on 
the Penal Code,’ two judgments delivered at Assizes—one of 
July 7, 1814, and the other of Afri7 24, 1818, both confirmed 
in the Court of Appeal, which condemned certain individuals 
who were neither functionaries nor public officers for assuming 
false names and identity; but these two verdicts, exceptional 
in every way, are based on a section in which this particular 
misdemeanor is not even mentioned, and it was only by very 
recondite argument that it was brought to bear on the cases. 
So you will understand that the outcome of such an action 
must always be doubtful, since, in the absence of any pos- 
itive rule, it is impossible to say what the judges’ decision 
may be.”’ 

“¢ Consequently, it is your opinion, as it is Rastignac’s, that 
we may send our countrywoman back to Romilly, and that 
there is nothing to be done.”’ 

‘“‘There is always something to be done,’’ replied Des- 
roches, ‘‘ when you know how to set about it. There is a 
further complication which does not seem to have occurred to 
you or Monsieur de Rastignac, or even to Monsieur Vinet ; 
and that is that, apart from the legal point, you need authority 
from the Chamber before you can prosecute a member of the 
representative body in a criminal court.”’ 





’ 


368 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCS. 


‘¢That is true,’’ said Maxime; ‘‘ but how does a further 
complication help us out of our difficulty? ’’ 

‘© You would not be sorry, I fancy,’’ said the lawyer, laugh- 
ing, ‘‘ to send your enemy to the hulks?”’ 

*‘A scoundrel,’’ said Maxime, with a droll twinkle, ‘‘ who 
has perhaps caused me to miss a good marriage, who sets 
up for austere virtue, and allows himself such audacious 
tricks !’’ 

‘Well; you must, nevertheless, put up with some less 
showy revenge. If you create a scandal, throw utter dis- 
credit on your man—that, I suppose, would, to some extent, 
achieve your end ?”’ 

‘No doubt; half a loaf is better than no bread.’’ 

‘Your ideas thus reduced, this is what I should advise: 
Do not urge your woman to bring an action against this gen- 
tleman who annoys you so much, but get her to place a peti- 
tion for authority to prosecute in the hands of the president 
of the Chamber. She will most probably not obtain it, and 
the affair will collapse at that stage ; but the fact of the appli- 
cation will be rumored in the Chamber, the papers will have 
every right to mention it, and the Government will be free, 
behind the scenes, to add venom to the imputation by the 
comments of its supporters.’’ 

‘‘Peste !’’ exclaimed Maxime, enchanted at seeing an out- 
let for his instincts of aversion, ‘‘ you are a clever fellow— 
far cleverer than all your self-styled statesmen. But as to this 
petition to the Chamber for leave to prosecute, who can draw 
that up ?”’ 

‘‘Not I,’’ replied Desroches, who did not care to go any 
further in such dirty work. ‘‘ What you want is not a judicial 
document, but a weapon, and that is no part of my business. 
But there are dozens of attorneys without clients who are 
always ready to put a finger into a political pie—Massol, for 
instance, will do your job as well as any man.”’ 

“‘Good!”’ said Maxime, ‘‘I will take the responsibility, 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 369 


and in that shape, perhaps, Rastignac may at last swallow the 
scheme.”’ 

‘‘Mind you do not make an enemy of Vinet, for he will 
think you have taken a great liberty in having thought of a 
thing that ought at once to have occurred to such a practiced 
parliamentary tactician as he is.’’ 

“Oh, before very long,’’ said Maxime, rising, ‘‘ I hope that 
Vinet, Rastignac, and the rest will have to reckon with me, 
Where are you dining to-night ?’’ he added. 

It is a question which one ‘‘man about town’’ often asks 
another. 

‘¢In a cave,’’ said Desroches, ‘‘ with the banditti.’’ 

‘¢ Where is it?” 

‘‘Why, in the course of your erotic experiences you have, 
no doubt, had recourse to the good offices of an old ward- 
robe-buyer named Madame de Saint-Estéve ?”’ 

‘*No,’’ said Maxime; ‘‘I always manage my own busi- 
ness.’’ 

-*€Ah, I was not thinking,’’ said the lawyer. ‘‘ You have 
always been a conqueror in high life, where such go-betweens 
are not employed. However, the woman’s name is not un- 
known to you ?”’ 

‘‘Quite true. Her store is in the Rue Saint-Marc. It was 
she who brought about the meeting between Nucingen and 
that little slut Esther, who cost him something like five hun- 
dred thousand francs. She must be related to a villain of the 
same kidney who is now at the head of the detective force, 
and goes by the same name.”’ 

‘¢That I do not know,”’’ replied Desroches. ‘‘ But I can 
tell you this much: she made a fortune by her trade as dresser 
(apparetlleuse, as it was called at a time when the world was 
less prudish than it is now), and to-day the worthy lady is 
magnificently housed in the Rue de Provence, where she is at 
the head of a matrimonial agency.’’ 

‘¢ And you are dining there ?’’ 

24 


370 “THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘* Yes, my dear sir, with the manager of an opera house in 
London, with Emile Blondet, Andoche Finot, Lousteau, Féli- 
cien Vernou, Théodore Gaillard, Hector Merlin, and Bixiou, 
who was instructed to invite me, because my experience and 
great knowledge of business are to be called into play.” 

‘*Bless me! is there some great financial enterprise at the 
back of that dinner ?’”’ 

‘¢ A joint-stock undertaking, my dear friend, and a theatrical 
engagement, and I am to read through the two agreements. 
As regards the last, you understand that the distinguished 
guests invited to meet me will proceed to blow the trumpet as 
soon as the deed is signed.’’ 

‘‘And who is the star whose engagement needs so much 
ceremony ?”’ 

‘Oh, a star who may look forward, it would seem, to 
European glory! An Italian woman discovered by a great 
Swedish nobleman, Count Halphertius, through the ministra- 
tions of Madame de Saint-Estéve. To have her brought out 
on the opera stage in London, the illustrious stranger becomes 
a sleeping partner with the zmfresario to the tune of a hun- 
dred thousand crowns.”’ 

“So the Swedish count is marrying her ?”’ 

‘‘H’m,’’ said Desroches, ‘‘I have not as yet been asked to 
draw up the settlements. Madame de Saint-Estéve, as you 
may suppose, still has some connection with the ‘thirteenth 
arrondissement’ in her agency business.” 

‘‘Well, my good fellow, I hope you will enjoy the party,’’ 
said Maxime, leaving. ‘If your star is a success in London, 
we shall probably see her in Paris this winter. I will be off 
to put a spoke, if I can, in the chariot wheels of the rising sun 
of Arcis. By the way, where does Massol live ?’’ 

‘©On my word, I cannot tell you. I have never taken him 
a brief; I have no use for pleaders who meddle in politics ; 
but you can send for his address to the office of the ‘ Gazette 
des Tribunaux ;’ he writes for it, I know.’’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 371 


Maxime himself went to the office to ask where Massol 
lived ; but the office-boy had strict orders not to give his 
address to anybody, probably with a view to the calls of duns. 
He fortunately remembered that Massol rarely missed a per- 
formance at the opera, and he felt tolerably certain of finding 
him in the lounging-room after dinner. In the evening he 
met Massol, as he expected, at the opera. Addressing him 
with his usual rather haughty politeness— 

‘‘T should like to talk with you, monsieur,”’ said he, ‘‘ over 
a partly legal and partly political matter. If it were not neces- 
sary to observe the strictest secrecy in every way, I would have 
had the honor of calling at your office, but I believe we shall 
discuss it in greater privacy at my house, where I can put you 
into direct communication with two interested persons. May 
I hope that you will give me the pleasure of taking a cup of 
tea with me to-morrow morning soon after eleven ?”’ 

‘¢T shall have the honor of waiting on you to-morrow at the 
hour you name,’’ he eagerly replied. 

‘*You know,’’ said Maxime, ‘ the Rue Pigalle? ’’ 

‘¢ Perfectly,’’ replied Massol, ‘‘close to the Rue de la 
Rochefoucauld.’’ 


On the evening when Sallenauve, Marie-Gaston, and Jacques 
Bricheteau had gone together to Saint-Sulpice to hear Signora 
Luigia sing, a little incident had occurred in the church which 
had scarcely been noticed. Through the little-used door, 
opening on the Rue Palatine, opposite the Rue Servandoni, a 
fair-haired youth hastily came in. He seemed so agitated and 
hurried that he even forgot to take off a cap of shiny leather, 
shaped like those worn by the students at German universities, 
As he pushed forward to where the crowd was thickest, he 
felt himself gripped by the arm, and his face, which was florid 
and rosy, turned lividly pale; but on turning round he saw 
that he had been alarmed without cause. It was only the 
Swiss, or beadle, who said in impressive tones— 


372 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


“¢ Young man, is your cap nailed to your head ?”’ 

‘*T beg pardon, monsieur,’’ said the youth. ‘‘It was an 
oversight.”’ 

And after obeying this lesson in reverence, human and 
divine, he lost himself in the densest part of the crowd, 
through which he roughly made his way with his elbows, get- 
ting a few blows in return, about which he did not trouble 
himself. Having reached an open space, he looked round 
with a hasty, anxious eye; then leaving by the door on the 
side to the Rue Garanciére, almost opposite to that he had 
come in by, he flew off at a great pace, and vanished down 
one of the deserted streets that lie about the Marché Saint- 
Germain. 

A few seconds after the irruption of this strange worshiper, 
in at the same door came a man with a deeply seamed face 
framed in white whiskers; thick hair, also white, but some- 
what rusty, and falling to his shoulders, gave him the look of 
some old member of the Convention, or of Bernardin de 
Saint-Pierre* after having had the smallpox. 

He obviously was bent on following the light-haired youth, 
but he was not so clumsy as to rush after him through the 
mass of people in front of the high altar, in which, as he 
understood, the fugitive had tried to be lost. So, working 
round the building, close to the wall, in a contrary direction, 
he had every chance of reaching the other door as soon as his 
prey; but, as has happened to many another, his cleverness 
played hima trick. As he passed a confessional, he perceived 
a kneeling form very like that of the man he was chasing. 
Attributing to him an ingenuity that would, no doubt, have 
been his in similar circumstances, it struck him that, to put 
him off the scent, his escaped victim had suddenly thrown 
himself on the penitential tribunal. In the time it took him 
to make sure of the man’s identity, which as we know was not 
confirmed, he was outstripped. So practiced a hunter at once 


* Author of “ Paul and Virginie.” 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 373 


gave up the useless chase ; he understood that the game was up 
for to-day, and he had missed his chance. 

He too was about to leave the church, when, after a brief 
prelude on the organ, Signora Luigia’s contralto voice ina 
few deep notes began the glorious melody to which the ‘* Lit- 
anies to the Virgin”’ are sung. The beauty of her voice, the 
beauty of the strain, the beauty of the words of that sacred 
hymn, which her admirable style gave out with perfect dis- 
tinctness, seemed to impress this strange man deeply. Far 
from leaving, as he had intended, he took his stand in the 
shadow of a pillar, not looking for a seat; but at the moment 
when the last notes of the canticle died away, he had fallen 
on his knees, and any one looking at his face would have seen 
that two large tears were trickling down his cheeks. 

The benediction having been pronounced, and the greater 
part of the crowd having left the church— 

‘‘What a fool I am!”’ said he, as he rose and wiped his 
eyes, and hailed a hack: 

‘*Rue de Provence, and look sharp, my good fellow. It 
will be worth your while,’’ said he. 

On reaching the house where he stopped the coach, he ran 
past the gatekeeper’s lodge and made for the backstairs, not 
wishing to be seen; but the porter, who was conscientious in 
the discharge of his duty, came to his door and called after 
him— 

‘¢ Pray, where are you going, sir?”’ 

‘“*To Madame de Saint-Estéve,’’ replied the visitor in a 
tone of annoyance. 

Immediately after he rang at a back door, which was opened 
by a negro. 

‘Ts my aunt in ?’’ he asked. 

‘¢Oh yes, missy at home,’’ replied the black man, putting 
on the most gracious smile he could command, which made 
him look like an ape cracking nuts. 

Making his way along the passages, which gave an idea of 


974 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


the extent of the apartments, the new-comer reached the 
drawing-room door; the negro threw it open, announcing 
‘‘ Monsieur Saint-Hésteve,’’ with a violent aspirate. 

The head of the detective police went into a room remark- 
able for its magnificence, but yet more so for the extraordinary 


- bad taste of the furniture. Three women of venerable an- 


tiquity were sitting at a round table, solemnly playing domi- 
noes. Three glasses, a silver bowl drained empty, and a 
vinous perfume that was unpleasantly conspicuous on coming 
into the room, showed that the worship of the double-sixes 
was not the only cult solemnized there. 

‘*Good-evening, ladies,’’ said the great man, taking a 
chair, ‘‘I am glad to find you all together, for I have some- 
thing to say to each of you.”’ 

‘We will listen presently,’’ said his aunt; ‘let us finish 
the game. Iam playing for fours.’’ 

“¢ Double-blank,’”’ said one of the antiquities. 

‘¢Domino!’’ cried Madame de Saint-Estéve, ‘‘ and game. 
You two must certainly have four points between you, and all 
the blanks are out.’’ 

So speaking, she put out a bony hand to take the punch- 
ladle and fill the glasses ; but finding the bowl empty, instead 
of rising to pull the bell, she rang a peal with the spoon in 
the silver basin. 

The negro came in. 

‘‘ Have something put into that,’’ said she, handing it to 
him; ‘‘and bring a glass for monsieur.”’ 

‘‘ Thanks ; I will take nothing,’’ said Saint-Estéve. 

‘*T have had a sufficiency,’’ said one of the old ladies. 

‘*And I have been put upon milk,’’ said the other, ‘‘ by 
the doctor, on account of my gastripes.”’ 

‘©You are all milksops together,’’ said the mistress of the 
house. ‘‘ Here, clear all this away,’’ said she to the negro ; 
“and, above all, don’t let me catch you listening at the door ! 
You remember the clawing you got ?”’ 





“ GOOD-EVENING, LADIES.” 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 875 


“‘Oh, yes, I ’member,’’ said the man, his shoulders shaking 
with laughter, ‘‘ me got no ears now.’’ 

And he went away. 

‘‘ Well, Tommy, it is your turn now,”’ said the old aunt to 
Saint-Estéve, after a stormy settlement of accounts between 
the three witches. : 

*¢ You, Madame Fontaine,’’ said the head detective, turning 
to one of them, who by her fly-away looks, her disorderly 
gray hair, and her frightfully crooked green silk bonnet, 
might have been taken for a blue-stocking in labor with an 
article on the fashions, ‘‘ you forget yourself too much; you 
never send us in any report, while, on the contrary, we hear 
too many reports about you. Monsieur le Préfet does not at 
all care for establishments of your class. I only keep you go- 
ing for the sake of the services you are supposed to do us; 
but without pretending, as you do, to look into the future, I 
can positively predict that if you continue to afford us so little 
information, your fortune-telling den will be shut before long.”’ 

‘“‘There you go!’’ retorted the pythoness. ‘‘ You pre- 
vented my taking the rooms Mademoiselle Lenormand had in 
the Rue de Tournon. Who do you suppose will come to me 
in the Rue Vieille-du-Temple? Poor clerks, cooks, laborers, 
and apprentice-girls! And you want me to go tattling to 
you of what I pick up from such folk ?”’ 

‘‘Madame Fontaine, you didn’t ought to say that,’’ said 
Madame de Saint-Estéve ; ‘‘ why, I send some of my customers 
to you most days.”’ 

‘¢ Not more than I send you of mine! ”’ 

‘¢ And not above four days’ since,’’ the matrimonial agent 
went on, ‘‘that Italian woman went to you from me. She is 
not a milliner’s apprentice, she is not; and she lives with a 
deputy who is against the Government! You might have 
reported that.’’ 

‘‘There is one thing in particular,’’ said the detective, 
‘which is constantly mentioned in the reports that reach me 


876 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


about you—that foul creature you make use of in your divina- 
tions——”’ 

‘‘WhorP Astaroth?’’ asked Madame Fontaine. 

‘‘Yes; that batrachian, that toad, to speak plainly, whom 
you pretend to consult. A little while since it would seem a 
woman was so upset by its horrible appearance that she——’”’ 

‘¢There, there,’’ the fortune-teller broke in, ‘‘if I am to 
do nothing now but read the cards, you may as well ruin me 
at once—cut my throat and have done with it! Because a 
woman has astill-born child, are you going to get rid of toads 
altogether in this world? If so, what did God create them 
for ?”’ 

‘*My dear madame,’’ said the man, ‘‘ there was a time 
when you would have been less partial to such help. In 1617 
a philosopher named Vanini was burnt at Toulouse solely be- 
cause he kept a toad in a bottle.”’ 

‘¢ Ay, but we live in an age of enlightenment,’’ said Mad- 
ame Fontaine cheerfully, ‘‘and the police are not so hard 
upon us.”’ 

“You, Madame Nourrisson,’’ said the detective, turning to 
the other old woman, “pick the fruit too green, I am told. 
Having kept store so long as you have, you must be well 
aware of the laws and regulations, and I am surprised at hav- 
ing to remind you that morals must be respected—under one- 
and-twenty.”’ 

Madame Nourrisson had, in fact, been, under the Empire, 
what Parent du Chatelet (whose work is such a curious study 
of the great plague of prostitution) euphemistically called a 
‘“«Dame de Maison.’’ She had afterward set up in the Rue 
Neuve-Saint-Marc the store for buying and selling old clothes. 

‘And you, you great bully, you respected morality, I sup- 
posed when, in 1809, you placed that girl of seventeen from 
Champagne in my care Bee 

‘*If it is thirty years since that folly was committed in my 
name,’’ replied the man, ‘that is thirty years’ record in my 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 377 


favor; for it was the last into which I was ever drawn bya 
petticoat. However, dear ladies, you can make such use as 
you please of my warnings. If mischief overtakes you, you 
cannot now complain that you had not due notice. 

‘* As to you, my little aunt, what I have to say to you is 
private and confidential.”’ 

At this hint the other two prepared to leaves 

‘‘Shall I send for a hack for you?’’ Madame de Saint- 
Estéve asked Madame Fontaine. 

‘* No, indeed,’’ said the fortune-teller. ‘‘I am going to 
walk; I am told to take exercise. I told my forewoman, 
Ma’ame Jamouillot, to come for me.’’ 

‘¢ And you, Madame Nourrisson ?’”’ 

‘¢ That’s a good ’un!’’ said the woman. ‘‘A hack to go 
from the Rue de Provence to the Rue Neuve-Saint-Marc! 
Why, we are quite near neighbors.”’ 

In point of fact, the old clothes-woman had come in every- 
day attire: a white cap with yellow ribbons, a patent front of 
jet black curls, a black silk apron, and a cotton print gown 
with a dark blue ground; and, as she said facetiously, it was 
most unlikely that any one should want to run away with her. 


In this public protector, who on the evening of the out- 
break on the 12th of May had offered his services to Rastignac, 
every reader will have recognized the notorious Jacques Collin, 
alias Vautrin, one of the most familiar and elaborately drawn 
figures of the Human Comedy. 

But, as he had told his old friend Colonel Franchessini, he 
was tired of perpetual thief-hunting ; there was no longer any 
hazard or anything unforeseen in the game; and, like a too 
experienced gambler, he had ceased to take an interest in it. 
For some years there had been still some spice in the business, 
and that had given him endurance for the endless attacks 
and ambushes planned against him by his old chums on the 


hulks, who were furious at what they called his treason: but 
NN 


378 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


by this time his cleverness and his good luck, which had 
always protected him from their conspiracies, had discouraged 
his foes, and they had laid down their arms. Since then his 
duties had lost all their charm ; he was anxious to change his 
sphere of employment and transfer his marvelous instincts as 
a spy and his indefatigable energy to that of politics. 

Colonel Franchessini had taken care to see him again after 
his visit to Rastignac ; and his old fellow-boarder at Madame 
Vauquer’s was not the man to under-estimate the purport of 
the minister’s views as to the luxury of such a plain citizen 
life as he had suggested to cast oblivion on the odious past 
that weighed on him. 

‘‘Haha!’’ said he, ‘‘the pupil then has outstripped his 
master! His advice deserves consideration; I will think 
about it.’’ 

In fact, he had thought about it, and it was under the in- 
fluence of much meditation and careful examination of the 
scheme proposed to him that he had now come to see his aunt, 
Jacqueline Collin—otherwise known as Madame de Saint- 
Estéve—an alias they had agreed to adopt, which, while 
masking the past history of this formidable pair, marked their 
close relationship. 

Jacqueline Collin herself, beside taking an active part in 
many of her nephew’s enterprises, had led an adventurous 
life; and on one of the many occasions when Vautrin found 
himself at variance with the law, an examining judge had thus 
summed up the antecedent history of his much-respected aunt, 
from certain data furnished by the police, of which there is 
no reason to doubt the accuracy: 

«She is, it would seem, an extremely cunning receiver of 
stolen goods—for no proof can be brought against her. She 
is said to have been Marat’s mistress, and after his death she 
lived with a chemist, executed in the year VIII. (1799) as a 
false coiner. She was witness at the trial. While with him 
she acquired much dangerous knowledge of poisons. From 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. ‘379 


the year IX., till 1805, she dealt in old clothes. She was in 
prison for two years, 1807-8, for entrapping girls under age. 

** You, Jacques Collin, were at that time on your trial for 
forgery ; you had left the banking-house where your aunt had 
apprenticed you as clerk under favor of the education you 
had received and the influence she could wield over persons 
for whose depravity she had entrapped victims.’’ 

Since the time when this edifying biography had been 
placed in her nephew’s hands, Jacqueline Collin, without 
falling again into the clutches of the public prosecutor, had 
enlarged her borders; and when Vautrin renounced the ways 
of wickedness, she was far from assuming an equally immacu- 
late garb of innocence. But having—as he had—made a 
great deal of money, she would now pick and choose; she 
had kept at a safe distance from the arm of the law; and 
under the pretense of a more or less decent line of business, she 
had carried on certain underground practices, to which she 
devoted really diabolical intelligence and energy. 

We have really learned from Desroches that the more or 
less matrimonial agency managed by Madame de Saint- 
Estéve was situated in the Rue de Provence ; and we may add 
that it was carried on on an extensive scale, occupying all the 
second floor of one of the enormous houses which Paris 
builders raise from the earth as if by magic. They are 
scarcely finished, and never free from debt, when they are filled 
with tenants, at any price, while waiting for a buyer to whom 
they are sold out of hand. If the builder finds a fool to deal 
with, he does a fine stroke of business ; if, on the other hand, 
the purchaser is a tough customer, the builder has to be con- 
tent with recovering his outlay, with a few thousand francs as 
interest ; unless, while the work is going on, the speculation 
has been hampered by one of those bankruptcies which in the 
building trade are among the commonest and most familiar 
complications. 

Women of the town, business agents, still-born insurance 


380 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


companies, newspapers fated to die young, the offices of im- 
possible railroad companies, discount brokers who borrow 
instead of lending, advertisement agents, who lack the pub- 
licity they profess to sell; in short, all descriptions of shy or 
doubtful enterprise and trade combine to provide the tem- 
porary inhabitants of these republics. 

They are built for show, ‘‘run up’”’ with perfect indiffer- 
ence to the fact that in the course of a few months settle- 
ment will hinder the windows from opening, warping will 
split the doors, the seams of the flooring will yawn, the 
drains, gutter-pipes, and sinks will leak, and the whole card- 
board structure be uninhabitable. That is the purchaser’s 
business ; and he, after patching the house up, is at liberty to 
be more fastidious in the choice of his tenants, and to raise 
the rents. 

Mme. de Saint-Estéve issued a document which was to offer 
the assistance of a strictly commercial agency through which, 
on the most moderate terms, wedding outfits and presents 
could be procured from Paris, suitable to every fortune or 
sum in settlement. It was only asa modest N. B., after an 
estimate of cost of the objects commonly included in such 
lists, divided, somewhat like an undertaker’s prospectus, into 
first, second, third, and fourth classes, that Madame de Saint- 
Estéve hinted at her ‘‘ being enabled, through her high social 
connections, to facilitate introductions between persons wish- 
ing to marry.”’ 

In Paris the lady herself appealed to public credulity, and 
her means were as ingenious as they were various. She made 
a bargain with a livery-man, who sent two or three decent- 
looking carriages to stand for hours at her door. Then, in 
her waiting-room, supposed clients of both sexes, well dressed, 
and affecting great impatience, took it in turns to come in 
and out, so as to suggest a constant crowd; and, as may be 
supposed, the conversation of these confederates—who pre- 
tended not to know each other—expatiated in suitable terms 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 381 


on the merits and superior adroitness of Madame de Saint- 
Estéve, 

The ingenious adventuress, by some donations to the poor 
and to the charities of Notre-Dame de Lorette, her parish, got 
an occasional call from a priest, which was at once a voucher 
of respectability and of the genuineness of her matrimonial 
undertakings. Another of her ingenious tricks was to keep 
herself supplied by the market-woman with lists of all the 
fashionable weddings in Paris, and to be seen in the church 
very handsomely dressed, arriving in a carriage with men- 
servants, so as to allow it to be inferred that she had had 
something to do with bringing about the union she had 
honored with her presence. 

On one occasion, however, a not very tolerant family ob- 
jected to the idea of serving her purpose of advertisement, and 
had treated her with contumely; so she was now cautious as 
to how she tried this plan for which she had substituted a 
system of rumor less compulsory and far less dangerous. 
Having known Madame Fontaine for many years—for there 
is a natural affinity among all these underground traffickers— 
she had plotted with her for a sort of reciprocal insurance 
company for working on the credulity of the Parisians; and 
between these two hags the terms were thus arranged: when a 
woman goes to have her fortune told, at least eight times out 
of ten her curiosity turns on the question of marriage. So 
when the sorceress announced to one of her fair clients, in 
time-honored phraseology, that she would ere long meet her 
fate in the person of a light-haired or a dark-haired man, she 
took care to add: ‘‘ But the union can only be brought about 
through the agency of Madame de Saint-Estéve, a very rich 
and highly respectable woman, living in the Rue de Provence 
Chaussée-d’Antin, who has a passion for match-making.’’ 
While Madame de Saint-Estéve on her part, when she pro- 
posed a match, if she thought there was any chance of thus 
promoting its success, would say: ‘‘ But go at any rate and 


382 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


consult the famous Madame Fontaine as to the outcome of the 
negotiation—Rue Vieille-du-Temple—her reputation as a 
fortune-teller by the cards is European; she never makes a 
mistake ; and if she tells you that I have made a good hit, you 
may conclude the bargain in perfect confidence.”’ 

‘My dear granny,”’ said Vautrin, to begin the conversation 
for which he had come, ‘‘I have so many things to tell you 
that I do not know where to begin.’’ 

‘*T believe you—why, I have not seen you for nearly a 
week.’’ 

‘¢To begin with, I may as well tell you that I just missed a 
splendid stroke of business.’’ 

‘¢ What sort ?’’ asked Jacqueline Collin. 

‘¢ Qh, all in the way of my vile trade. But this time the 
game was worth the trouble. Do you remember that little 
Prussian engraver about whom I sent you to Berlin? ’’ 

‘¢Who forged the Vienna bank-notes in such an astounding 
manner ?’’ said the aunt, finishing the story. 

‘¢ Well, not an hour ago in the Rue Servandoni, where I 
had been to see one of my men who is on the sick list, pass- 
ing by a greengrocer’s shop, I fancied I recognized my man 
buying a slice of le Brie cheese, which was being wrapped in 
paper.’’ 

“¢Tt would seem that he is not much the richer then, for all 
he knows so much about bank-notes 4 

‘My first thought,’’ Vautrin went on, ‘‘ was to rush into 
the store—the door was shut—and to collar my rogue; but, 
not having seen his face very close, I was afraid of being mis- 
taken. He, it would seem, had kept a lookout; he saw some 
one spying him through the window, and presto! he vanished 
into the back-store, and I saw him no more se 

‘Then, old boy, that is what comes of wearing long hair 
and a beard all round your chin. The game scents youa 
hundred yards away !’’ 

‘*But then, as you know, my fancy for being easily recog- 








THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 383 


nized is what most impresses my customers. ‘He must be 
jolly well sure of himself,’ they say, ‘never to want any dis- 
guise!’ Nothing yet could or has done so much to make me 
popular.”’ 

‘¢ Well,’’ said Jacqueline, ‘so your man was in the back- 
store ?’’ 

‘“‘T hastily took stock of the premises,’’ Vautrin went on. 
‘¢The store was on one side of an arched entry; at the bot- 
tom of the alley the door was open to a courtyard, into which 
there would be a door from the back-store ; consequently, un- 
less the fellow lived in the house, I was in command of all the 
exits. I waited about a quarter of an hour; it is a long time 
when you are waiting. I looked into the store in vain, no 
sign of him. Three customers went in; the woman served 
them without seeming to be aware of any one keeping an eye 
on her, she never gave a glance one way or the other, or 
sermed at all on the watch. ‘Well!’ said I to myself at last, 
‘he must be a lodger; if not, the woman would certainly 
have been more puzzled at his going out the back way.’ Sol 
determined to drop in and ask a question ortwo. Pff! I 
had scarcely crossed the threshold when I heard steps in the 
street—the bird had flown.’’ 

‘*You were in too great a hurry, my dear. And yet, only 
the other day you said to me— P-o-l-i-c-e spells patience.’ ’’ 

‘¢Without waiting for further information,’’ said Vautrin, 
‘¢T was off in pursuit. Exactly facing the Rue Servandoni— 
the name of the architect who built Saint-Sulpice—there is a 
door into the church, which was open because of the month 
of Mary, service being held there every afternoon. My rascal, 
having the advantage of me, flew through this door, and was 
so effectually lost in the crowd that when I went in I could 
nowhere find him.’” 

‘¢ Well,’’ said the woman, ‘‘I cannot be sorry that the ras- 
cal stole a march on you. I always feel some interest in a 
smasher. Coining is a neat sort of crime, and clean; no 


384 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


blood spilt, no harm done but to that mean hunks the Govern- 
ment.”’ 

‘¢Tn spite of your admiration, you will have to go to-morrow 
and pick up some information from the greengrocer woman, 
who must certainly know him, since she winked at his escape. 
When I went back to the store I found shutters and doors all 
shut up. I had lost some time in the church ds 

‘« Listening to a singer, I bet,’’ interrupted the aunt. 

‘‘ Quite true. How did you know?” 

‘¢ Why, all Paris is crowding to hear her,’’ replied Jacque- 
line Collin, ‘‘and I know her, too, in my own little way.’’ 

‘‘What! That voice that touched me so deeply, that took 
me back fifty years to my first communion under the good ora- 
torian fathers, who brought me up—that woman who made 
me cry, and transformed me for five minutes into a saint— 
and you have her on your books sai 

‘©Yes,’’ said Madame de Saint-Estéve carelessly, ‘‘ I have 
a transaction on hand for her: I am getting her on to the 
stage.”’ 

‘‘Aha! So you are a dramatic agent too? Matrimony is 
not enough? ”’ 

‘¢ This is the case in two words, my boy: She is an Italian, 
as handsome as can be, come from Rome with an idiot of a 
sculptor, whom she worships without his supecting it. Indeed, 
this Joseph cares so little about her that, after using her as his 
model for a statue, he has never yet been at the pains to be 
more than civil.’ 

‘¢That isa man who ought to do well in his art,’’ remarked 
Jacques Collin, ‘‘ with such a contempt for women and so 
much strength of mind.”’ 

‘And the proof of that,’’ replied Jacqueline, ‘‘ is that he 
has just given up his art to become a deputy of the Chamber. 
It was about him that I said to old Fontaine that she might 
have found something to write you. I sent my Italian to 
her, and she told the cards as regards this ice-bound lover.” 








> 
THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 385 


‘“¢ And how did you come to know the woman?”’ 

‘Through old Ronquerolles. Having gone to see the 
sculptor one day, in the matter of a duel in which he was 
second, he saw this jewel of a woman, and became quite Nu- 
cingen about her.’’ 

‘¢ And you undertook the negotiations ?’”’ 

‘* As you say. It was above a month ago, and the poor 
man had had all his pains for nothing. Now I, having the 
matter in hand, made inquiries; I found out that the beauty 
was a member of the sisters of the Virgin ; thereupon I called 
on her as a Dame de Charité, or charitable lady, and imagine 
what luck for me as a beginning—the sculptor was in the 
country getting himself elected a 

‘‘T have no fears about you; at the same time, a lady of 
charity who undertakes a theatrical agency os 

‘« By the time I had seen her twice she had told me all her 
little secrets,’’ the old woman went on. ‘*‘ That she could no 
longer bear life with that man of marble; that she was deter- 
mined to owe nothing to him; and that having studied for 
the stage, if she could only secure an engagement, she would 
run away. So one dayI went off to her and arrived quite 
out of breath to tell her that a friend of mine—a great lord, 
highly respectable, old, virtuous—to whom I had spoken of 
her, would undertake to get her an opening and I asked her 
to let me take him to see her.’’ 

‘©A word and a blow! ”’ said Jacques Collin. 

‘‘Ves; but she, a devil for suspiciousness, and less bent on 
deserting her sculptor than she had thought, kept me, shilly- 
shally, from day to day. So at last, to give her a shove, I 
hinted that she should go and consult old Fontaine, as indeed 
she was ready enough to do. 

“Tt is of no use totalk; I must proceed with caution. If 
he should make difficulties about our enticing away the 
woman, whom he would perhaps think he wanted as soon as 
she ceased to want him, he would hold a very strong hand. 

25 








386 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


And that selfish old brute Ronquerolles, who is only a mem- 
ber of the Upper House, would not be much protection 
against a deputy of the Chamber——”’ 

‘* That old rip Ronquerolles is not the man for that woman,”’ 
said Jacques Collin. ‘‘If she is an honest woman, we must 
keep her so. I know a really respectable man who will get 
her on to the stage on honorable terms, and secure her a 
splendid position without asking for anything in return.”’ 

‘What! you know of any such phenomenon? I should 
be truly glad to have his address; I would leave a card on 
him.”’ 

‘All right—Petite Rue Sainte-Anne, Quai des Orfévres: 
you will find a man there of your acquaintance.”’ 

“‘Are you guying me?’’ cried the woman, who in her as- 
tonishment fell back on the low slang which she had spoken 
so fluently of yore. 

‘*No, I am quite serious. That woman touched me; she 
interests me; and I have another reason a 

Vautrin then related his proceedings with regard to Ras- 
tignac, Colonel Franchessini’s intervention, the minister’s 
reply, and his transcendental theories of social reorganiza- 
tion. 

“And that little ape thinks he can teach us!’’ exclaimed 
the aunt. 

‘* He is in the right,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘ only the woman was 
wanting ; you have found her for me.’’ 

‘¢' Yes, but it will be sheer ruination.’’ 

‘‘And for whom are we saving? We have no heirs, and I 
do not suppose you feel urgently drawn to found a hospital, 
or prizes for distinguished merit ?’’ 

‘Tam not such a softhead,’’ replied the woman. ‘‘ Beside, 
as you know, my Jacques, I have never kept an account 
against you. Still, I foresee one difficulty: this woman is as 
proud as a Roman—which she is, and your confounded duties 


” 


are——— 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 387 


‘¢There, you see,’’ Jacques Collin eagerly put in, ‘‘ I must 
at any price escape from a life where one is liable to such 
insults. But be easy ; I can avert this particular offense. My 
business justifies me in playing every part in turn ; and, as you 
will remember, I am not a bad actor. I may put a whole 
rainbow of orders in my button-hole to-morrow and take a 
house in any aristocratic name I may choose to assume. The 
fun of the carnival lasts all the year round for a detective. 

‘*T have already hit on a plan. I know the man I mean to 
be. You may tell your Italian that Count Halphertius—a 
great Swedish lord, crazy about music and philanthropy— 
takes a great interest in her advancement. In point of fact, 
I will furnish a house for her; I will strictly observe the vir- 
tuous disinterestedness to which you may pledge me; in short, 
I will be her recognized patron. As to the engagement she 
wishes for, I wish it too; for my own future purpose I want her 
to be glorious and brilliant; and we are not Jacques and 
Jacqueline Collin if, with her gifts and our gold and determi- 
nation, we fail in making her so.”’ 

‘* But then comes the question whether Rastignac will think 
you have won; it was Monsieur de Saint-Estéve, the head of 
the detective police, that he told you to whitewash.’’ 

** Not at all, old lady. There is no such person as Saint- 
Estéve, no Jacques Collin, no Vautrin, no Trompe-la-Mort, 
no Carlos Herrera: there is a remarkably powerful mind, 
strong and vigorous, offering its services to the Government. 
I am bringing it from the North, and christening it with a 
foreign name, and this makes me all the better fitted for the 
political and diplomatic police whose functions I henceforth 
intend to exercise.’’ 

‘“‘You forge ahead! it is wonderful. But first we must 
catch the jewel who is to make such a show for you, and we 
have not got her yet.’’ 

‘‘That is no difficulty ; I have seen you at work, and when 
you will you can,”’ 


388 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 


**T will try,’’ said Jacqueline Collin diffidently. <‘ Come 
and see me again to-morrow night, at any rate; perhaps I 
may have something to show.’’ 

‘*And meanwhile, do not forget the greengrocer’s store in 
the Rue Servandoni, No. 12, where you are to make inquiries. 
That capture, as being important to a foreign government, 
has a political air about it that would be of service toward 
helping me to my end.”’ 

**T will give you a good account of the storewoman, never 
fear,’’ said Jacqueline. ‘‘ But the other affair is rather more 
ticklish ; we must not handle it roughly.”’ 

‘* You have a free hand,”’ replied Vautrin. ‘I have always 
found you equal to any undertaking, however difficult. So 
farewell till to-morrow.”’ 


On the following day Vautrin was sitting in his office in 
the Petite Rue Sainte-Anne when he received the following 
note— 


‘You are much to be pitied, my old boy; everything is 
working out as you want it. Early this morning I was told 
that a lady wished to speak to me. Who should come in but 
our Italian, to whom I had given my address in case she 
should need me in a hurry. Her Joseph having spoken last 
evening, in cheerful terms, of his intention that they should 
part company, the poor dear had not closed her eyes all 
night, and her little brain is in such a pother that she came 
straight to me, begging me to introduce her to my respectable 
friend, in whose hands she is prepared to place herself if he is 
to be trusted, because she feels it a point of honor to owe 
nothing more to that icicle who can disdain her. So come at 
once in the new skin you have chosen, and then it is your 
business to make your way to the charmer’s good graces. 


‘* Your affectionate aunt, 
‘<¢J. C. DE SAINT-ESTEVE.”’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 389 


Vautrin replied as follows— 


‘*T will be with you this evening at nine. I hope the change 
in my decorative treatment will be so handsome that if I had 
not told you the name I shall assume, you would find it diffi- 
cult to recognize me. I have already taken steps in the mat- 
ter of the engagement, and can speak of it in such a way that 
the charmer will form a good idea of her Paga’s wealth and 
influence. - 

‘* Sell some stock out in the course of the day for a rather 
considerable sum; we must have ready money; I, on my 
part, will do the same. ‘Till this evening, 


‘¢ Your nephew and friend, 
‘¢ SAINT-ESTEVE.”’ 


That evening, punctual to the hour he had fixed, Vautrin 
went to his aunt’s rooms. On this occasion he went up the 
main staircase, and was announced as Monsieur le Comte 
Halphertius by the negro, who did not recognize him. 

Warned though she was of his metamorphosis, Jacqueline 
stood in amazement at this really great actor, who was alto- 
gether another man. His long hair, @ /@ Franklin, was now 
short and curled and powdered ; his eyebrows and whiskers, 
cutlet-shaped, in the style of the Empire, were dyed dark 
brown, in strong contrast with the powdered wig; and a false 
mustache of the same hue gave his not naturally noble features 
a stamp of startling originality, which might, by a stretch of 
imagination, be called distinction. A black satin stock gave 
deportment to his head. He wore a blue tail-coat, buttoned 
across, and in one button-hole an inch of ribbon displayed 
the colors of half the orders of Europe. A nankeen vest, vis- 
ible below the coat-front, effected a harmonious transition to 
pearl-gray trousers ; patent-leather boots and lemon kid gloves 
completed the ‘‘get-up,’’ which aimed at careless elegance. 
The powder, of which the last wearers could now easily be 


390 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


counted, gave the crowning touch to an old foreign diplo- 
matist, and a very happy sobriety to a costume which, but for 
that corrective, might have appeared too juvenile. 

After giving a few minutes to admiration of his disguise, 
Vautrin asked his aunt— 

‘Ts she here ?”’ 

“ Yes,’’ said Jacqueline. ‘‘ The angel retired to her room 
half an hour ago to tell her beads, now that she is deprived of 
attending the services of the month of Mary. But she impa- 
tiently awaits your visit, seeing how I have sung your praises 
all day.”’ 

«‘And what does she think of your house? Does she repent 
of the step she has taken ?”’ 

‘‘ Her pride would in any case be too great to allow of her 
showing such a feeling. Beside, I have cleverly won her con- 
fidence, and she is one of those persons who are determined 
never to look back when once they have started.’’ 

*¢ The best of the joke,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘is that her deputy, 
who is worried about her, was sent to me by Monsieur le 
Préfet that I might help him to find her.’’ 

‘‘ He wants her, then ?’’ 

‘¢ He is not in love with her, you understand, but he con- 
sidered her as being in his care, and he was afraid that she 
might have taken it into her head to kill herself, or might 
have fallen into the hands of some intriguing woman. And 
you know that, but for my fatherly intervention, he would 
have laid his finger on the spot.”’ 

‘‘And what did you say to your flat ?”’ 

‘¢Oh, of course, I allowed him to hope, but really and truly 
I was sorry not to be able to do what he asked me. I tooka 
fancy to him at once; he has a pleasant way with him, ener- 
getic and clever, and it strikes me that our friends the Min- 
istry will find him a pretty tough customer.”’ 

‘¢So much the worse for him; he should not have driven 
the dear child to extremities,’’ said the aunt ‘‘And the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCZS. 391 


engagement, for which you said you had the irons in the 
fire?” 

‘* You know what a queer thing luck is, my beauty,’’ re- 
plied Vautrin, taking out a newspaper. ‘‘Good or bad, it 
always comes in squalls. This morning, after receiving your 
letter, which brought me such good news, I opened this the- 
atrical journal and read this paragraph: ‘ The Italian opera 
season in London, which began so badly by the lawsuit that 
brought to light the pecuniary difficulties under which Sir 
Francis Drake’s management is struggling, seems still further 
embarrassed by the serious illness of la Serboni, necessitating 
her absence from the stage for an indefinite period. Sir 
Francis arrived yesterday at the Hétel des Princes, Rue de 
Richelieu, having come in search of two destderata—a prima 
donna and some funds. But the hapless zmresario is moving 
in a vicious circle; for without money no prima donna, and 
without a prima donna no money. 

‘© ¢ We may hope, however, that he will escape from this 
dead-lock ; for Sir Francis Drake has a character for being 
honest and intelligent, and with such a reputation he will 
surely not find every door closed to him.’ ”’ 

‘¢ Men of the world are your journalists !’’ said the old aunt 
with a knowing air. ‘‘Is every door to be thrown open be- 
cause a man is honest and intelligent ?”’ 

‘In the present case,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘ the phrase is not so 
far wrong; for the moment I had read the article I figged 
myself out, as you see, took a private coach, and went off to 
the address given. 

‘¢ ¢Sir Francis Drake?’ I asked. 

‘¢*T do not know whether he can see you, sir,’ says the 
gentleman’s gentleman, coming forward; he was there, I 
strongly suspect, to give the same answer to any one who 
might call. ‘He is with the Baron de Nucingen,’ he added 
apologetically. 

‘‘T made believe to look through a pocket-book well 


392 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


stuffed with bank-notes for a card, which, of course, I had 
not got. 

‘¢< Well,’ said I, with a slight German accent and a sprink- 
ling of Germanisms, ‘I am Count Halphertius, a Swedish 
gentleman. Tell Sir Francis Drake I had come for to discuss 
some business. I shall go to the Bourse, where I give some 
orders to my broker, and I shall come back after a half- 
hour.’ 

‘*Saying this in the most lordly tone, I went back to my 
carriage. I had only set foot on the step when the lackey, 
running after me, said he had made a mistake; that Mon- 
sieur de Nucingen was gone, and his master could see me 
at once.”’ 

‘‘ Trying their games on us!’’ said Jacqueline Collin, with 
a shrug. 

‘Sir Francis Drake,’’ Vautrin went on, ‘‘ is a regular Eng- 
lishman, very bald, with a red nose, and large prominent 
yellow teeth. He received me with frigid politeness, and 
- asked me in good French what my business was. 

**<Just now,’ said I, ‘at the Café de Paris, I read this,’ 
and I handed him the paper, pointing to the place. 

‘*<Tt is inconceivable,’ said he, returning me the news- 
paper, ‘that a man’s credit should be thus cried down pub- 
licly.’ 

‘¢¢The journalist is wrong? You have no want of money?’ 

‘¢¢You may imagine, monsieur, that I should not in any 
case try to obtain it through the medium of a theatrical 
journal.’ 

‘**¢Very good! Then have we nothing to talk about?’ 
said I, rising. ‘I come to put some money in your busi- 
ness,’ 

‘**T would rather you had a prima donna to offer me!’ 
said he. 

‘*¢T offer you both,’ said I, sitting down again. ‘ One not 
without the other.’ 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 393 


‘¢ «Of well-known talent ?’ asked the zmpresario. 

‘¢¢Not at all known,’ replied I. ‘Never seen yet at any 
theatre.’ 

‘¢¢ Hum—risky,’ said the gentleman with a cunning look. 
‘The protectors of youthful talent often make great mis- 
takes.’ 

“¢¢ But I offer you a hundred thousand crowns—as an in- 
vestment—for you only for to listen to my nightingale.’ 

‘©¢That would be a large sum for so little trouble, and but 
a small one as a help to my management if it were in such 
difficulties as your paper says.’ 

*¢¢ Well, then, hear us for nothing; if we are what you 
want, and you make a handsome offer, I will put down twice 
so much.’ 

‘*¢ You speak with a freedom that invites confidence ; from 
what country is your young prima ?’ 

*** Roman—of Rome—a pure-bred Italian, and very hand- 
some. You may believe if I am interested in her; I went 
mad about her, only for that I had heard her a long way off 
in achurch. I did not see her till afterward.’ 

‘**But it strikes me,’ said the Englishman, ‘that women 
do not sing in church in Italy.’ ”’ 

‘SWell!’’ said Madame de Saint-Estéve, ‘‘are there 
churches nowhere but in Italy ?’”’ 

‘¢Precisely,’’ said Vautrin. ‘‘I felt that to give some ap- 
pearance of reality to my disguise and my proceedings, I must 
assume some suspicion of eccentricity ; so seizing the oppor- 
tunity of getting up a German quarrel— 

‘¢<T beg to remark, monsieur,’ said I in a very pugnacious 
tone, ‘that you have done me the honor of give me the one 
lie.’ 

‘¢¢What!’ said the Englishman in amazement, ‘ nothing 
could be further from my thoughts.’ 

‘©<Tt is plainly so, all the same,’ said I. ‘I tell you, I 
heard the signora in church; you say: ‘‘ Women do not sing 


394 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


in church in Italy ’’—that is so much as to say I shall not 
have heard her.’ 

**¢ But you may have heard her in another country.’ 

*** You should have thought of that,’ said I, in the same 
quarrelsome tone, ‘ before you made that remark—extraordi- 
nary remark. At any rate, I see we shall not agree. The 
signora can wait till the Italian opera opens in Paris in Oc- 
tober. Artists get much better known here. So, Monsieur 
Drake, I wish you a good-morning.’ And I really seemed 
about to leave.’’ 

‘Well played!’ said his aunt. 

In all the most risky affairs undertaken by them in common, 
they had always duly considered the artistic side. 

‘* Well, to make a long story short,’’ said Vautrin, ‘ hav- 
ing thus brought my man to the sticking-point, we parted on 
these terms—I am to put down a hundred thousand crowns 
in money, the signora gets fifty thousand crowns for the re- 
mainder of the season, supposing her voice is satisfactory ; 
and, to judge of her quality, we are to meet to-morrow at two 
o’clock at Pape’s, where Sir Francis Drake will have brought 
two or three friends to assist him, to whose presence I have 
consented. We are to be supposed to have gone to choose a 
piano. I said, just to keep up the game, that the lady might 
be terrified at the solemnity of a formal hearing, and that we 
are more sure in this way of knowing what she can really do.”’ 

«But I say, old boy,’’ said Jacqueline, ‘‘a hundred thou- 
sand crowns is a lot of money!”’ 

«Just the sum that I inherited from that poor boy Lucien 
de Rubempré,’’ said Vautrin carelessly. ‘‘ However, I have 
gone into the matter. Sir Francis Drake, with some one to 
back him, may have a very good season. ‘There is my secre- 
tary, Théodore Calvi, who is mine for life or death. He is 
very alert on all questions of interest. I have secured him 
the place of cashier, and he will keep an eye on the partner’s 
profits. Now, there is but one thing that I am anxious about. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 395 


Signora Luigia moved me deeply, but I am no connoisseur ; 
artists may not think of her as I do.”’ 

‘¢ Artists have pronounced on her, my ducky; her sculptor 
never thought of giving her the key of the fields till she had 
been heard by acertain Jacques Bricheteau, an organist and a 
first-rate musician. They were at Saint-Sulpice the very even- 
ing of your pious fit, and the organist declared that the woman 
had sixty thousand francs in her voice whenever she pleased— 
those were his words.’’ 

‘¢ Jacques Bricheteau!’’ said Vautrin; ‘‘ why, I know the 
man. There is a fellow of that name employed in one of the 
police departments.’’ 

‘‘Well, then,’’ said his aunt, ‘‘it is your nightingale’s 
good fortune to be under the protection of the police!’’ 

‘¢No, I remember,”’ said Vautrin. ‘‘ This Jacques Briche- 
teau was an inspector of nuisances, who has just been dis- 
missed for meddling in politics. Well, now, suppose you 
were to effect the introduction. It is late.”’ 


Jacqueline Collin had hardly left the room to go for Luigia, 
when there was a great commotion in the anteroom leading to 
it. Immediately after the door was thrown open, and in 
spite of a desperate resistance on the part of the negro, who 
had been expressly ordered to admit nobody whatever, in 
came a personage whose advent was, to say the least, inoppor- 
tune, if not altogether unexpected. In spite of an insolently 
aristocratic demeanor, the new-comer, caught in his violence 
by a stranger, was for a moment disconcerted, and Vautrin 
was malicious enough to intensify the situation by saying with 
Teutonic bluntness— 

‘*Monsieur is an intimate friend of Madame de Saint- 
Estéve’s ?”’ 

‘‘T have something of importance to say to her,’’ replied 
the intruder, ‘‘ and that servant is such an ass that he cannot 
tell you plainly whether his mistress is at home or out.’’ 


396 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢T can bear witness that she is out,’’ replied the supposed 
Count Halphertius. ‘‘ For more than an hour I have wait for 
to see her, by her own appointment. She isa flighty thing, 
and I believe she is gone to the theatre, for what her nephew 
have sent her a ticket, the negro telled me.’”’ 

‘¢ At whatever hour she may come in I must see her,”’ said 
the new-comer, taking an easy-chair, into which he settled 
himself. 

‘For me, I wait no longer,’’ replied Vautrin. 

And, having bowed, he prepared to leave: Then Madame 
de Saint-Estéve appeared on the scene. Warned by the negro, 
she had put ona bonnet and thrown a shawl over her shoulders, 
to appear as if she had just come in. 

**Gracious!’’ she exclaimed, with well-feigned surprise. 
*¢ Monsieur de Ronquerolles, here, at this hour! ”’ 

** Devil take you! what do you mean by shouting out my 
name ?’’ said her customer in an undertone. 

Vautrin, entering into the farce, turned back, and coming 
up with an obsequious bow— 

‘‘ Monsieur le Marquis de Ronquerolles?’’ said he, ‘ peer 
of France, formerly her ambassador. I am glad to have 
spent a minute with a statesman so well known—a so perfect 
diplomatist ! ”’ 

And with a respectful flourish he went to the door. 

‘What, baron, going so soon?’’ said the old woman, 
trying to assume the tone and accent of a dowager of the 
Faubourg Saint-Germain. 

‘“Yes. Monsieur le Marquis has much to talk to you. I 
shall return back to-morrow at eleven—and be punctual.’’ 

‘Very well; to-morrow at eleven,’’ said his aunt. ‘‘ But 
I may tell you everything is going on swimmingly ; the lady 
thinks you will be all she could wish.”’ 

Another bow and Vautrin was gone. 

‘‘Who in the world is that strange creature?’’ asked 
Ronquerolles. 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 397 


‘¢A Prussian baron for whom I am finding a wife,’’ replied 
the woman, ‘‘ Well,’’ she went on, ‘‘is there anything new 
that you so pressingly want to speak to me?”’ 

‘*Yes. And something which you ought to have known! 
The fair one left the sculptor’s house this morning.’’ 

‘*Pooh!”’ said Jacqueline. ‘‘ Who told you that ?’’ 

‘¢My man, who has seen the maid-of-all-work.’’ 

‘*Hah! Then you keep several irons hot !’’ said she, glad 
of an excuse for a quarrel. 

*¢ My good woman, you were making no way at all, and the 
matter has been in hand a month _ 

“¢ You seem to think that all you want is to be had ready- 
made, and that an Italian is the same soft tinder as your Paris 
sluts! And then you are so liberal!’’ 

‘Why, you have extracted more than three bank-notes for 
a thousand francs already for your sham expenses.”’ 

‘© A perfect fortune! And what about the engagement you 
undertook to arrange ?’”’ 

‘¢Can I open the Italian opera expressly for that woman ? 
If she would have sung at the French house——’’ 

‘¢ There is Italian opera in London though not in Paris for 
the moment, and the manager, as it happens, is over here in 
search of a prima.” 

‘So I saw in the papers, of course ; but what good could 
I do by trying to deal with a bankrupt ?’”’ 

‘¢ Why, that is your best chance. You bolster up the man, 
and then, out of gratitude “ 

“‘Oh, certainly!’’ said the marquis, shrugging his shoul- 
ders. ‘‘A mere trifle of five hundred thousand francs—what 
la Torpille cost Nucingen!’’ 

‘¢ My good man, you want the woman or you don’t. Es- 
ther had tried the streets. This Italian is at least as hand- 
some, and virtuous—green seal! Then she has a glorious 
voice. You have forked out three thousand-franc bills; 
what is that, pray, to make such a noise about ?’”’ 








398 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


*¢ Did you or did you not undertake the business ?’”’ 

‘“‘T did. And I ought to have it left entirely to me; and 
if I had supposed that I was going to be checked off by your 
manservant, I would have asked you to apply elsewhere. I 
do not care to have a partner in the game.”’ 

*¢ But, you conceited old thing, but for that fellow, would 
you have known what I have just told you?”’ 

“¢ And did he tell you the rest of the story ?”’ 

‘<The rest of the story? What?’’ said the marquis eagerly. 

‘Certainly. Who got the bird out of its nest, and in what 
cage it may be at this present speaking.’’ 

“«Then you know?’’ cried Ronquerolles. 

“Tf I do not know, I can make a guess.”’ 

*¢ Then, tell me,’’ said he, in great excitement. 

“‘You, who know every queer specimen, old or young, in 
the Paris menagerie, must certainly have heard of Count Hal- 
phertius, a Swede—enormously rich, and just arrived.’’ 

“T never heard his name till this moment.”’ 

‘* You had better ask your servant; he can tell you.”’ 

‘¢Come, come; do not try finessing. This Count Hal- 
phertius, you say i 

‘“Ts music-mad—and as woman-mad as Nucingen.”’ 

‘*And you think that la Luigia will have flown that way?” 

“T know that he was hovering round her; he even charged 
me to make her splendid offers, and if I had not pledged my- 
self to you——’”’ 

‘©Oh, I daresay ; you are a dame of such lofty virtue! ”’ 

“Is that the way you take it?’’ said Jacqueline Collin, 
putting her hand in her pocket and pulling out a purse fairly 
well filled with notes. ‘You can take your money back, my 
boy, and I only beg you to trouble me no further.’’ 

‘*Get along, you wrong-headed creature,’’ replied the mar- 
quis, seeing three thousand-franc notes held out to him. 
‘¢ What I have given, you know I never take back.”’ 

‘¢ And I never keep what I have not earned. You are done, 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 899 


Monsieur le Marquis. I am working for Count Halphertius ; 
I brought away the lady; she is hidden here, in my rooms, 
and to-morrow morning she and the Swede set out for Lon- 
don, where a splendid engagement awaits her!”’ 

‘*No, no, I do not believe that you would cheat me,”’’ said 
Ronquerolles, fancying that the fact thus fired at him point- 
blank was really the sarcasm it appeared. ‘‘ We are old 
friends, you know; pocket those bank-notes, and tell me hon- 
estly what you think of this rich foreigner as a rival.’’ 

‘‘ Well, I have told you. He is enormously rich; he will 
stick at no sacrifice; and I know that he has had several talks 
with Madame Nourrisson.’’ 

‘‘Then you learned all those facts from that old carrion ?’”’ 

‘« Madame Nourrisson is my friend,’’ said Madame de Saint- 
Estéve, with much dignity. ‘‘ We may be competing to gain 
the same prize, but that is no reason for her being evil-spoken 
of in my presence.’’ 

‘¢ Did she tell you at least where this Count Halphertius is 
living ?”’ 

‘*No. But I know that he was to start for London yester- 
day. That is why I ran alongside before I put the flea in 
your ear.”’ 

‘*Tt is very evident the Italian woman is gone off to join 
him.”’ 

‘¢ You may very likely be right.”’ 

<‘A pretty mess you have made of it!’’ said Ronquerolles 
as he rose. 

‘‘Indeed !’’ said Jacqueline insolently. ‘‘ And were you 
never checkmated in your diplomatic business ?’’ 

‘“*Do you suppose you will get any more exact informa- 
tion ?”’ 

‘¢ We will see,’’ said she. It was her formula for promising 
her assistance. 

‘¢But no underhand tricks,’’ cried the marquis. ‘You 
know I do not understand a joke.’’ 


? 


400 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘¢ Will the case be brought before the Chamber of Peers?”’ 
said Madame de Saint-Estéve, who was not a woman to be 
easily daunted. 

Without answering this piece of insolence, Ronquerolles 
only remarked : 

‘You might perhaps desire your nephew to help in your 
inquiries.”’ 

‘Yes,’ said Jacqueline ; ‘‘I think it would not be amiss 
to tell him something about the matter—without naming you, 
of course.”’ 

‘And if at any time I can be of use to him with his chief, 
you know, I am as stanch a friend as I am a dangerous 
foe.’’ 

Thereupon Madame de Saint-Estéve and her client parted, 
and as soon as the enemy’s coach-wheels were heard in the 
distance, the virtuous matron had no occasion to go in search 
of her nephew. He had gone round by a back passage, and 
come to wait in the room behind the drawing-room, whence 
he had overheard everything. 

‘You tricked him neatly!”’ said Vautrin. ‘ We will con- 
trive by little scraps of information to keep his head in the 
trough for a few days longer; but now go at once and fetch 
our ‘ Helen,’ for unless it is too late you ought to introduce 
03, °° 

‘Be easy; I will settle that,’’ said his aunt, who a minute 
later came back with the handsome housekeeper. 

‘¢Signora Luigia—Monsieur le Comte Halphertius,’ 
she, introducing them to each other. 

‘¢ Signora,’’ said Vautrin in the most respectful tone, ‘‘ my 
friend Madame de Saint-Estéve tells me you will permit me 
to take some interest for your affairs ‘i 

‘“Madame de Saint-Estéve,’’ replied Luigia, who had 
learned to speak French perfectly, ‘‘ has spoken of you asa 
man with a great knowledge of art.’’ 

‘‘That is to say, I am passionately devoted to it, and my 


’ said 





THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 401 


fortune allows me to do all I can to encourage it. You, mad- 
ame, have a splendid gift.’’ 

‘‘That remains to be proved, if I am so fortunate as to get 
a chance of being heard.”’ ; 

‘‘You may come out when you choose. I have seen the 
manager of the //a/ians theatre in London; he shall hear you 
to-morrow—it is settled.’’ 

‘<I am deeply grateful for the trouble you have been so good 
as to take; but before accepting your kind offices, I wish to 
come to a clear understanding.”’ | 

‘¢T love to be frank,’’ said Vautrin. 

‘¢T am poor and alone in the world,”’ said Luigia; ‘‘I am 
considered good-looking, and at any rate I am young. It be- 
hooves me, therefore, to be circumspect in accepting the eager 
benevolence that is shown me. In France, I am told, it is 
rarely disinterested.’’ 

‘¢ Disinterestedness,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘I shall promise. But 
as to hindering tongues of talking—TI shall not promise.’’ 

‘Oh! as for talk,’’ said his aunt, ‘‘that you may make up 
your mind to. Monsieur le Comte’s age even will not stop 
their wagging—for, in fact, a younger man is more likely to 
devote himself to a woman without any idea of. In Paris 
your old bachelors are all reprobates !’’ 

‘¢T shall not have ideas,’’ said Vautrin. ‘‘If I amso happy 
to be of use for the signora, which I admire her talent so 
much, she shall let me be her friend; but if I fail in my re- 
spect to her, she shall be independent for that talent, and 
she shall turn me out of her door like a servant that shall rob 
her.’’. 

‘‘And I hear, Monsieur le Comte, that you have already 
been kind enough to inquire about an engagement for me? ”’ 

“‘It is almost settled,’’ said Vautrin. ‘‘ To-morrow you 
shall sing; and if your voice shall satisfy the manager of the 
' Zfalians in London, it is fifty thousand francs for the rest of 
the season,”’ 

26 





402 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


‘‘It is a dream,’’ said Luigia. ‘‘And perhaps when he 
shall have heard me a 

‘¢ He will be of the same opinion as that Monsieur Jacques 
Bricheteau,’’ replied Jacqueline. ‘‘He said you had sixty 
thousand francs in your voice—so you are still robbed of ten 
thousand francs.”’ 

‘Oh! as to his promise to pay fifty thousand francs as soon 
as he has heard you,’’ said Vautrin, ‘I have no fear, Then 
to pay them—that is another thing. He wants money, they 
say. But we will have the agreement made by some clever 
man, Madame de Saint-Estéve shall find him ; and the signora 
shall not have to think about the money—that is her friend’s 
concern. She shall think only of her parts.”’ 

Vautrin, as he said: ‘‘ Then to pay them—that is another 
thing ” had managed to touch his aunt’s foot with his 
own. She understood. 

“‘On the contrary,’’ said she, ‘‘I believe he will pay very 
punctually. He will not care to quarrel with us, my dear 
count. It is not every day that you come across a man who, 
to secure an engagement, is ready to risk a sum of a hundred 
thousand crowns.”’ 

‘‘What, monsieur! you are prepared to make such a sacri- 
fice for my sake! I can never allow it * 

‘* My good Madame de Saint-Estéve,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘ you 
are a tell-tale. Iam risking nothing ; I have looked into the 
matter, and at the end of the season I shall have my benefits ; 
beside, I am v-e-ery rich, Iam a widower, I have not children; 
and if part of that money shall be lost, I shall not for that 
hang myself.’’ 

“« Nevertheless, monsieur, I will not permit such a piece of 
folly.’’ 

‘‘Then you do not want me for your friend, and you are 
afraid you shall be compromised if I help you?”’ 

‘©In Italy, monsieur, such a protector is quite recognized ; 
and so long as there is nothing wrong, nobody cares for ap- 











THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS, 403 


pearances ; but I cannot entertain the idea of allowing you to 
risk so large a sum on my account.” 

“‘If it were a risk, no. But the risk is so small that your 
engagement and the hundred thousand crowns are two sepa- 
rate things, and I shall enter into partnership with the director 
even if you refuse.”’ 

** Come, come, pretty one,’’ said Jacqueline, ‘‘ you must 
make up your mind to owe this service to my friend Hal- 
phertius ; you know that if I thought it was likely to carry you 
further than you think quite right, I should have nothing to 
do with it. Talk it over with your confessor, and you will 
see what he says about it.’’ 

‘*T would in Italy ; but in France I should not consult him 
about a theatrical engagement.”’ 

“Well, then, signora,’’ said Vautrin, in the kindest way, 
‘‘consider your career as an artist. It lies before you, a 
splendid road! And when every paper in Europe is full of 
the Diva Luigia, there will be a good many people greatly 
vexed to think that they failed to recognize so great an artist, 
and to keep on friendly terms with her.”’ 

Vautrin knew men’s minds too well not to have calculated 
the effect of this allusion to the secret sorrow of the Italian 
girl’s heart. The poor woman’s eyes flashed, and she gasped 
for breath. 

‘¢« Monsieur le Comte,’’ said she, ‘‘ may I really trust you?”’ 

' «Undoubtedly ; and all the more so, because if I spend the 
money, I expect to get some little return.’’ 

«* And that is ?’’ said Luigia. 

‘‘That you show me some kind feeling; that the world 
shall believe me to be happier than I really shall be; and that 
you do nothing to deprive me of that little sop to my pride, 
with which I promise to be content.”’ 

“<T do not quite understand,’’ said the Italian, knitting her 
brows. 

‘¢And yet nothing can be plainer,’’ said Madame de Saint- 





404 THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 


Estéve. ‘‘ My friend here does not wish to look a fool; and 
if while he is visibly your protector you were to take up with 
your deputy again, or fall in love with somebody else, his 
part, as you may understand, would not be a handsome one.”’ 

‘I shall never be anything to the count but a grateful and 
sincere friend,’’ said Luigia. ‘‘ But I shall be no more for 
any other man—especially for the man of whom you speak. 
I did not break up my life, dear madame, without due con- 
sideration.” 

‘¢But you see, my dear,”’ said the old woman, thus showing 
a profound knowledge of the human heart, ‘‘ that the men of 
whom we declare that we have washed our hands are often 
just the most dangerous.”’ 

‘*'You speak as a Frenchwoman, madame,”’ said the Italian. 

‘¢ Then to-morrow,’’ said Vautrin, ‘‘ I have your permission 
to come for you and take you to meet this manager? Of | 
course, you know many of the parts in stock operas?’”’ 

‘*T know all the parts taken by Malibran and Pasta,’’ said 
Luigia, who had been studying indefatigably for two years 
past. 

‘¢And you will not change your mind in the course of the 
night ?’’ said Vautrin insinuatingly. 

‘¢ Here is my hand on it,’’ said Luigia, with artless frank- 
ness. ‘‘I do not know whether bargains are ratified so in 
France.”’ 

“¢ Ah, Diva, Diva! ’’ cried Vautrin, with the most burlesque 
caricature of dilettante admiration; and he lightly touched 
the fair hand he held with his lips. 

When we remember the terrible secret of this man’s past 
life, it must be admitted that the Human Comedy—nay, I 
should say, Human Life—has some strange doublings. 

The success of the singer’s trial was far beyond Vautrin’s 
expectations. The hearers were unanimously in favor of 
Luigia’s engagement. Nay, if they had listened to Sir Francis 
Drake, it would have been signed then and there, and the 


THE DEPUTY FOR ARCIS. 405 


singer would have set out the same day for London, where, 
owing to la Serboni’s illness, her majesty’s theatre was in 
great straits. 

As he was starting for England, he said to his aunt— 

‘To-day is the 17th of May; at seven in the evening on 
the 21st, I shall be back in Paris with Sir Francis Drake. 
Meanwhile take care that our protege is provided with a 
suitable outfit. No absurd magnificence, as if you were dress- 
ing up a courtesan, but handsome things in the best style, not 
loud or too startling to the signora’s good taste. In short, 
just what you would buy for your daughter, if you had one, 
and she were going to be married. 

‘‘For that same day, the 21st, order a dinner for fifteen 
from Chevet. The party will consist of the leaders of the 
press; your client Bixiou will get them together. You, of 
course, as mistress of the house; but I entreat you, dress 
quietly—nothing to scare the guests. Then I must have a 
clever man of business to look through the papers before we 
sign, and a pianist to accompany the Diva, who shall sing us 
something after dinner. You must prepare her to give a taste 
of her best quality to all those trumpeters of fame. Sir 
Francis Drake and I make the party up to fifteen. I need 
not say that it is your friend Count Halphertius who gives the 
dinner at your house, because he has none of his own in Paris ; 
and everything is to be of the best, elegant and refined, that 
it may be talked about everywhere.”’ 

After giving these instructions, Vautrin got into a post- 
chaise, knowing Jacqueline Collin well enough to feel sure 
that his orders would be carried out with intelligence and 
punctuality. 


END OF PART I. 


Sa 


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